


swing my heart across the line

by jarpadsalecki



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Grocery Store, Blow Jobs, Body Shots, Drinking Games, First Kiss, First Meetings, Grocery Store, M/M, My First AO3 Post, My First Work in This Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 21:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1320202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarpadsalecki/pseuds/jarpadsalecki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Louis was trying to come up with all the ways Liam could have died--car crash, he was figuring, but Liam was the safest driver he knew--and ringing up a particularly large order for a thirty-something year old woman and her three kids when a figure appeared out of the corner of his eye. Well, fucking finally he had a bagger. He glanced to his left, hopefully, to see if it was Liam.</p><p>It wasn’t."</p><p>The one where Louis is the star cashier, Harry is the cafe boy, Niall works in the deli, and when Liam is promoted from bagging to dairy, Zayn from produce is his replacement. Louis is not happy about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	swing my heart across the line

**Author's Note:**

> This is my gift for Lizzy for j4ya's 1D Secret S4nta 2013! I started this in late December and it is finally, finally done. I haven't really written or published anything in about two years, so this fic is my baby. Thanks to Lizzy for her undying faith and patience!! I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you like it too!! Special shout-out to Ana, who helped me plot things out, read as I went, gave me feedback, and encouraged me the whole way. Thank you Ana (: Title is from "Counting Stars" by OneRepublic.

The first thing Louis noticed was that Liam was not at the front end when he clocked in and got a drawer from the office. As he counted his money at a closed register, he looked at the break schedule and Liam’s name wasn’t on it, but Louis was sure that last week Liam had mentioned that he was working tonight. He always worked Tuesday nights, unless he called out which was not very Liam-like. He hadn’t seen him since Saturday, and there was no way he got fired or quit or died or anything since then.

Well. He might have died. But Louis had a feeling he would have heard about it by now. Probably. Maybe. He hadn’t checked his email in a few days.

The closing manager, Paul, told him where to go and he replaced one of the day-timers, scoffing when he saw the mess they had left. Rubber bands everywhere, the stupid PLU cheat sheet lying in the open. He tucked that in the drawer beneath the counter (because, really, if you’re a day-timer you shouldn’t need it, and anyway, it’s not like you need it next to you 24/7), and then put the rubber bands in the drawer below the register  because he only used them for the self-serve soup and salad containers. Next he bent down by the trash can beneath the register and quickly collected the crumpled receipts that had missed their mark and shoved them in the bin. He straightened up, took the pen out of his pocket, placed it neatly beside the receipt printer, and turned to the customer who had been waiting since he had replaced the day-timer.

“Sorry about that, ma’am. Changing of the guards,” he said, flashing a smile. “How are you today?” He started scanning her groceries, pushing meat off to the side with the bread and eggs and pushing the non-perishable stuff all the way down.

It was a relatively small order, so he didn’t mind bagging it himself, but he would rather have had Liam do it. Liam had big arms and has been bagging longer than Louis has been cashiering--he got him the job in the first place--so he knew the trick to getting any kind of combination of groceries to fit perfectly in a bag. Louis was alright at it, he didn’t put bread and grapes at the bottom or anything, but when he was impatient or not paying attention he’d forget to separate cold stuff or he’d make a bag heavier than he would have liked. And don’t ask him to double bag anything.

Somebody at the register behind him asked what the code for brussel sprouts was. “Four-five-five-oh,” he shouted over his shoulder, barely glancing at whoever it was. Brussel sprouts? Really? He understood if you didn’t know the code for, like, red radishes (4089), but brussel sprouts? Cashiering wasn’t rocket science, he didn’t think. You’re nice to the customer and scan their stuff efficiently and memorize all your produce PLUs and know how to process a check, and everything else is easy. He knew that one of each coin added up to forty-one cents and he remembered to always circle the cashback amount on the receipt to reassure himself and the customer that he’s giving them the correct amount. He washed his register when he could and he kept track of his coupons and loans. He was good at cashiering, he liked to think. After six years of it, he could kind of zone out while he was doing it, going through the motions more or less while thinking about whatever. During a lull he could make grocery lists and take a water break and, more often than not, talk to Liam.

He didn’t always get to work with Liam, so it’s not like he couldn’t handle not having him around today, but the fact that he was sure he was working but wasn’t bothered Louis all the more. He decided to once more entertain the possibility of Liam dying, because he really couldn’t think of another reason why he wouldn’t even be on the schedule (if he had called out sick he would have at least been written down with his name crossed out), let alone why he wouldn’t be working up front.

He was trying to come up with all the ways Liam could have died--car crash, he was figuring, but Liam was the safest driver he knew--and ringing up a particularly large order for a thirty-something year old woman and her three kids when a figure appeared out of the corner of his eye. Well, fucking finally he had a bagger. He glanced to his left, hopefully, to see if it was Liam.

It wasn’t.

He was about the same size of Liam anyway, but a bit taller. His hair was dark and he needed a shave, and his eyes were soft and brown when they caught Louis’s glance. Something about him tickled the back of Louis’s brain, and he could’ve sworn he’d seen him before. Either way, he had definitely never bagged before, Louis quickly realized, because he was standing there looking like a lost puppy in his blue smock with his hands stuck down his pockets.

“Would you like paper or plastic, ma’am?” he asked the mother, who was currently trying to wrestle the ten-year-old off the six-year-old while the baby was wailing in the cart.

“I don’t care,” she snapped, and Louis pasted a smile on his face. Plastic it is, then. He grabbed a bag and started filling it up with the frozen stuff because honestly he didn’t expect the bagger to know to separate it, what with the way he was handling the non-perishables like a toddler.

As they silently worked, Louis glanced up at the bagger again. As he studied his pronounced cheekbones and his jawline which Louis could only describe as obscene, he really did have the feeling that he’d met him before. He checked his nametag: ZAYN read across it in black letters.

Either way, this Zayn fellow was a sloppy bagger. He ripped a paper bag at least twice and almost spilled someone’s soup (well obviously, since he hadn’t put a rubber band around it, which Louis had no problem telling him), and he did that annoying new bagger thing that all new baggers did where at the beginning of each order they just stood there expectantly until Louis asked, “Paper or plastic?” because they never know when to ask. The guy didn’t say much of anything, really, other than telling customers to have a nice day and quietly thanking Louis everytime he said anything. That part was especially annoying. Generally, Louis had no patience for new baggers, but he was particularly fed up today what with Liam missing and all, so naturally he was doing his best to shit on poor Zayn’s life. But the idiot just kept on being fucking nice and polite, even when Louis snapped at him about bagging too heavy or for not offering to bag meats separately. He just nodded and thanked him. Louis wanted to find out what the fuck his problem was.

-

Louis only had a three-and-a-half hour shift today, so he worked straight through without a break, and after he counted his drawer he was heading over to clock out when he saw Liam, the sleeves of his smock rolled up over his elbows, pushing a giant cart of boxes down aisle two, and he stomped right up to him.

“Where the hell have you been?!” he hissed stopping Liam in his tracks.

“Hello to you too,” Liam sighed, leaning against the boxes with one hand on his hip.

“I thought you were working today!” Louis snapped without a beat. “I just spent the last three-and-a-half hours miserable out of my mind,” he added bitterly, like it was Liam's fault. Which it was.

“I am working today,” Liam corrected, gesturing to his smock-and-tie apparel. “I look good in khakis, but not enough to go out wearing them on my day off.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Yes, I can see that you’re working Liam, but what are you doing...” he waved his hands at the cart of boxes. “here?”

Liam raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t I tell you?” he asked.

“Tell me what,” Louis groaned.

“Well, since Arthur retired last month they switched me to dairy because I’m like, strong and stuff, I guess,” Liam shrugged one shoulder, as if he didn’t really believe it. But you would if you saw Liam’s arms. “So now I’m training to like, stock all the frozen foods and recall all the expired stuff and all that.” He smiled and patted the pile of boxes sitting on the cart. “It’s quite fun, actually. I get to move around a lot, do as I like.”

Louis scowled. “So...you’re not a bagger anymore?”

Liam shook his head. “Nope, just dairy. Well, I mean, if they need me to cover a shift they’ll call me, and I can get called up front during a big rush if they need me and stuff like that. But other than that, yeah, I’m in dairy now.”

Well, that explained the whole schedule thing. Louis groaned, throwing his head back. “Well, what the fuck! This is terrible!” Liam frowned and crossed his arms. “Oh--no, no Liam, I mean, that’s fantastic for you. I’m really proud of you, mate. Congrats and all that,” Louis quickly added, patting Liam on the arm affectionately. “But it’s fucking awful for me. Who am I supposed to talk to up front now?” he whined.

Liam shrugged. “You could talk to Paul.”

“Paul’s a fucking wanker and you know it.”

“Oh, c’mon, he’s not all bad. One time he let me go to McDonald’s on the clock as long as I bought him a large fry.”

“Yeah. Well,” Louis said. “He’s still a wanker.”

Liam chuckled and shook his head, then he stopped and his eyes widened. “Oh! They needed a replacement for me and I told them to put Zayn up front. He’s cool, we used to go to uni together. Talk to him."

Louis winced. “Zayn?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Liam nodded. “He used to work in produce.”

Well, that was interesting. Now Louis knew where he had seen him before. He could now recall those fleeting times, while he was on the express lane closest to the produce department, when he’d make eye contact with some tall, dark and handsome guy in a green smock and hat taking inventory on bananas or something. Sometimes he’d buy Red Bulls from Louis and he always used his credit card, which had always bothered him a bit. Louis had never really talked to him or knew his name, but suddenly he was Liam’s replacement.

“Yeah, I met him today,” Louis sighed. “He’s alright, I guess. Won’t be the same as you, though,” he said, leaning forward and bumping Liam’s shoulder.

Liam snickered and ran his hand through Louis’s hair, roughing it up a bit and making Louis squirm. “Better not be,” he said. “But hey, I’ve gotta get back to work. I have a feeling this yogurt’s melting,” he said, frowning at the boxes next to them.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Louis said, stepping back and admiring the cart. “That’s a lot of yogurt, then. I wonder how much it would take to fill--”

“Tomlinson!” a gruff voice called from the other end of the aisle.

Louis whirled around and saw Paul looming in his black jacket, both hands on his hips and his feet squared apart. “Yes, Paul?” he replied in the sweetest voice he could muster.

“Have you clocked out yet?”

“Shit,” Louis whispered to himself. Liam was laughing behind him. Louis made a mental note to kick him later. “Um...it’s on my to-do list,” he called back to Paul.

“Well, get to it then! You’re not being paid to flirt with Liam all day,” Paul grunted before starting to head back up front to continue supervising or managing or dictatoring or whatever it was that he did up there.

“I’m not--!” Louis attempted, then groaned as Paul went out of sight.

Liam was still laughing as he began to roll the cart away. “See ya, Lou.”

“Shut up,” Louis immediately shot back. stomping away in the other direction but unable to contain a few giggles.

****  
  


-

****  
  


After Louis clocked out, he went out on the loading dock to have a smoke. He was surprised to find someone else there too, his back to Louis. Usually he was the only one who liked to use the loading dock. The way his shoulders were hunched told Louis that the guy was lighting his own cigarette.

“Can I have a light?” Louis asked while whoever it was had his lighter out, digging a Marlboro out of his pocket.

The figure turned around and Louis flinched. It was Zayn, his nose a little red from the cold and his puffs of breath mixing in with the smoke from his cigarette. “Oh,” he said, recognizing Louis. “Hey.”

Louis shifted his weight from foot to foot, mostly from the cold but partly because he was suddenly uneasy. “Hey,” he echoed. They stared at each other for a minute, unblinking, like two animals that had suddenly come across each other in the woods.

“Um, right,” Zayn said, approaching Louis with the lighter. Louis stuck his cigarette in between his lips and cupped his hands around the end of it while Zayn held his lighter up

While Zayn’s head was slightly bent, Louis studied his face like he had earlier, a little pinched in concentration as he tried not to burn Louis or whatever. Zayn was gorgeous, really, even more so up close. Louis was drawn more to his eyes than anything else, how they stared intently at what his hands were doing. He was used to working with attractive people (see: Liam, Harry, Niall) but Zayn took it to a new level with his tall-dark-and-handsomeness, and his cheekbones, and that jawline...

“Right, well,” Louis cleared his throat and took a long drag of his newly lit cigarette before it damn well near fell out of his mouth. “Thanks,” he said, expelling smoke in Zayn’s direction.

They stood like that for a minute, close together, their breath mixing together while their cigarettes burned away. Then Zayn smiled, his eyes crinkling in a way that made Louis want to see it for real, wanted to see Zayn’s face when he was really cheek-to-cheek grinning.

“No problem,” Zayn replied. He created more distance between them like before and quietly finished his cigarette. In three minutes or so he dropped it on the ground and stomped it out, ducking back into the store without another word to Louis, his ten-minute break up.

Louis watched him go and then took another long drag. He breathed it out slowly, steadily, watching the door swing shut. He shivered, but when he thought about it it really wasn’t that cold out.

-

“Niall, for the last time, no.”

“Oh, but come on,” Niall pleaded, clutching the broom handle with both hands. “Last year you promised you’d go the next year. It’s the next year, Lou!”

Louis threw his head back and groaned. “Niall, I do not want to go a work party on my night off from work. That’s redundant. Or something.”

“Okay, it’s not a ‘work party,’” Niall scoffed, using air quotes. “It’s just a party where everybody from work goes.” Niall paused to think about that, then shook his head. “Whatever. The point is, for the past three New Year’s Eves I have had this party, and you have never, ever gone.” He jabbed a finger at Louis. “You’re going.”

Louis swatted Niall’s hand away with one hand while he held his broom in the other. “I am not going,” he growled. “And anyway, aren’t you supposed to be sweeping the deli? Like, on the other side of the counter?” he pointed out.

Niall glanced at the deli counter and then scoffed at Louis. “Please, like you’ve been doin’ any sweeping since you came over here.” Louis rolled his eyes but didn’t object. “Besides,” Niall continued, “Harry’s been mopin’ around there all day and it’s been kind of bringin’ me down.”

“What’s the matter?” Louis asked. He looked out across the floor over by the cafe and saw Harry spinning himself around on a stool behind the counter, his green hat pulled over his face.

“I sold a lobster,” Niall sighed.

“Oh, god,” Louis groaned, knowing full well what that meant. “Which one?”

“I think...the one he called Geraldine.”

Louis’s shoulders slumped. “Well, fuck.”

“What?”

“That was his favorite.”

“Oh, god,” it was Niall’s turn to groan as he leaned all his weight onto his broom. “Now he’s gonna be miserable all night. You know how he gets.”

“I know.”

“But it’s not like I can just stop selling lobsters whenever he’s working!”

“I know.”

“I mean, what am I supposed to...wait.” Niall suddenly glared at Louis. “Stop tryin’ t’change the subject!”

“Me?” Louis gasped, gesturing to himself in shock. “I’m not the one who brought up Harry’s pet lobsters!”

Niall shook his head. “Whatever. Now you have to come to this party because I’ll just remind him of it and Liam will just get sad for Harry.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on.”

“You come on! D’you really wanna leave me with those two saps on New Year’s Eve?” Niall pleaded, angling his broom towards Louis. “Geraldine’s just died,” he added desperately.

Louis let his head roll back and he sighed long and deep. Truthfully, he did want to be with his best friends on New Year’s. For the past three years he’d just been with his family, which was nice but not nearly as fun. And sad Harry meant, by association, sad Liam, which on New Year’s Eve meant both very drunk and sad Harry and Liam. Niall was right. It was cruel and unusual punishment and it was too good to pass up. He sighed again. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Niall hissed, letting his broom fall to the ground while he threw both fists in the air.

“Alright, no need to have an orgasm over it,” Louis chuckled.

Niall picked up his broom and started heading back towards the deli counter. “Oh, that reminds me, I need to make the cold cut platter and the shrimp cocktail--”

“Cold cut platter?”

“I mean...” Niall gestured to his white coat and green hat. “I’m the deli guy, right?”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Right, but--”

Niall was already talking over Louis. “Okay, the party starts at nine tomorrow, so like...be there at nine-thirty, yeah?” He ducked behind the counter and then through the swinging double doors that went out back before Louis could protest.

-

Louis showed up at Niall’s loft at quarter of ten, feeling a little more hopeful about the whole thing than he had at first. He liked parties, after all. Loved them, really, but he hated work enough that the thought of combining the two made him nauseous. And what if one of his coworkers saw him lose his shit drinking and began questioning his undying superiority at cashiering? He hated work, but he loved the fact that he was actually a really good cashier and everyone knew it. But he loved parties. After knocking, he focused on his favorite party things as he waited. He would definitely play beer pong. He would definitely do body shots. He would definitely play some sort of strip drinking game. At midnight, he would definitely find someone to kiss. Or, he would have a bottle of hard liquor on his lips. Either way.

The door swung open to Niall’s grinning face, his cheeks already flushed like they did when he’d been drinking. “Louis!” he greeted happily, pulling Louis towards him and ushering him into the flat.

Harry and Liam were curled up on the couch on the right side of the room, giggling and trying to spill their drinks on each other.  “Oi, Harry!” Niall yelled.

Harry popped his head up. “Yeah?”

“Lou’s here!” Niall shouted. “You owe me ten pounds.”

“Excuse me?” Louis spat.

Harry threw his arms open, his drink sloshing in his red solo cup. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Lou!” Harry shouted back. “You said you hated work parties!”

“I do!” Louis yelled. He jabbed a finger at Niall. “You bet on this?”

Niall shrugged and took a sip of the beer he had suddenly procured out of nowhere. “To be fair, I didn’t actually think I’d win.”

“Neither did I,” Harry called from the couch as Liam tried to pour his drink all over Harry’s curls. “How’d you do it, Niall?”

“I told him you were upset about Geraldine,” Niall explained, smiling slyly as he brought his beer to his lips again.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “You little shit.”

Niall and Harry had gone behind Louis’s back and bet money on him, and then Niall had manipulated him in his favor. It was such a Louis thing to do. A ghost of a smirk played on Louis’s lips, but he feigned a groan and turned towards the door. “I’m leaving.”

“No, no, no, no, no!” Niall begged, grabbing Louis’s arm and pulling him back. “It was just ten pounds! We really wanted you to come, bet or no! Promise!”

Louis snickered and yanked his arm out of Niall’s grip. “Come off it, I’m only kidding,” he said, slapping Niall in the chest. “Besides,” he continued, plopping down on the couch on top of Harry and Liam, both of whom groaned. “I taught the three of you all you know about betting. I’m rather proud to be the object of this one. This is a good moment for me. Even if it was only worth ten pounds.”

“That’s great, Lou,” Liam grunted, muffled underneath Louis’s shirt. “But can you please get off?”

“C’mon,” Niall giggled, grabbing Louis by the arm and hoisting him to his feet. “Let’s fetch you a drink.”

“For the record, I’m still upset about Geraldine,” Harry grumbled as Niall led Louis away.

Niall led Louis through the flat until they landed in the kitchen, where a huge table was set up in the center. Tons of snacks and cups and various bottles of whatever littered it. The party had only started about an hour ago, but almost all the food was gone already and they were running low on cups.

“Right,” Niall began pointing out everything on the table. “We’ve got potato chips, cheetos, chex mix, lots of dip, and also shrimp cocktail, scallops, and of course the cold cut platter...” Niall pointed at the drinks. “And we’ve got...just about any kind of cheap liquor you could want. Mixers and chasers and stuff are on the counter, beer’s in the fridge.”

“Cool, thanks,” Louis said, nodding approvingly. If he was being honest, Louis had expected this party to be more half-assed than anything, but he was impressed. Niall had actually gotten his shit together pretty well.

“You want me t’make you somethin’?” Niall offered. “I did take a bartending class one time.”

Louis chuckled. “Nah, I think I’ve got it. But thanks.” The last time he let Niall make him drinks, he had to call out of work the next morning. And he never called out of work.

“Suit yourself, mate,” Niall shrugged and took another sip of his beer.

A few moments later a clatter arose from the living room that sounded a lot like Harry and Liam breaking things, so Niall excused himself and left Louis to his own devices. He meandered over to the drinks table and grabbed himself a cup. He was trying to remember how to make a long island iced tea while also tuning into the ruckus in the living room--Liam and Harry were now fighting over who could say Geraldine the fastest while Niall accused them both of staining the sofa--when he felt eyes searing into him from the side.

He turned to look and there was Zayn, leaning against a wall with one foot propped up against it. He was wearing dark jeans and a black hoodie, and Louis had to say that he definitely looked way better right now than he ever looked in khakis and a blue smock. Which, Louis had noticed this week, was pretty damn good. For the past few days they had exchanged little to no words whenever Zayn bagged for Louis, although sometimes they’d catch glances and smile politely, but Louis had not found Zayn smoking on the loading dock again. He’d hold his breath every time he opened the door, and felt an inexplicable rush of disappointment when he found himself alone. Nevertheless, Louis had done a lot of staring this week, and now it seemed Zayn was returning the favor.

“Hey,” Louis said first this time.

Zayn nodded, his lips quirking up. “Hey.”

Louis raised his empty cup a little, angling his chin towards the cup in Zayn’s hand, cradled by his bent knee. “What are you drinking?”

Zayn lifted his cup to his face, staring down into the contents as if he was making sure he still had the same drink before answering. “Jack Daniels.”

“Ah,” Louis nodded. “My old friend.”

Zayn giggled, actually giggled, his eyes crinkling up. Something stirred in the pit of Louis’s stomach. Zayn pushed himself from the wall and approached the drink table. “What are you drinking?” he asked.

Louis shrugged. “Nothing at the moment,” he said. “I’m in the mood for anything, really, I just don’t know what.” He had botched the long island iced tea idea.

Zayn nodded and pressed the edge of his cup to his lips thoughtfully. Louis had a hard time tearing his eyes away. “Well...” he hummed. “You can’t go wrong with vodka.”

“Oh no, no, you can definitely go wrong with vodka,” Louis laughed, shaking his head. “I know, because I have. Several times.”

“Oh, come on,” Zayn chuckled. Then he narrowed his eyes and grabbed the nearest handle of vodka. He plucked Louis’s cup out of his hand and filled it almost halfway. He handed it back to Louis. “Chug this.”

Louis first took a long, skeptical look at his cup and then raised an eyebrow at Zayn. “You can’t be serious.”

Zayn nodded eagerly.

“Straight up?”

“C’mon,” Zayn urged. “I dare you.”

Well, now. Zayn had hit Louis’s weak spot: he’d only refused a dare three times in his life. The first, when his childhood friend dared him to make one of his little sisters cry, for which Louis had punched him in the face for suggesting; the second, when Liam dared him to flash his dick to people while they drove on the highway, which Louis couldn’t manage while driving; and the third, when Niall dared him to pants Paul at work, because Louis wanted to live a long, prosperous life. He had, however, streaked across a high school football game, licked peanut butter off of Harry’s foot (and other various body parts), and offered to give a handjob to a delivery guy for free pizza (it worked). Downing some vodka was child’s play, if he was being honest.

So he lifted the cup to his lips, winked at Zayn, and chugged the whole thing down, slamming the empty cup down on the table for effect when he was finished.  Zayn was laughing as he squeezed Louis’s shoulder appreciatively. Zayn’s grip was firm but gentle, radiating warmth from his palm.

Louis grinned. “Cheers.”

“Well done,” Zayn commented before downing his own drink in one, clean swig. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, still holding his cup, and grinned as well. His other hand was still on Louis’s shoulder.

Louis grabbed Zayn’s empty cup out of his hand and filled it with whichever tequila was closest. He gave him about the same amount of vodka he had had and shoved it towards Zayn’s face. “Now you,” Louis ordered. “I dare you.”

Zayn simply shrugged and downed it in one go without protest. He wiggled his empty cup in the air when he was done. “What’s next?” he asked.

Louis wanted to be put off by how nonchalantly Zayn was handling himself, but he was actually enjoying himself. He loved dares, he loved alcohol, and he...didn’t mind Zayn. “It’s my turn now,” Louis replied. “Dare me to do something.”

“Hmm...” Zayn took his hand off Louis’s shoulder, regrettably, and tapped his fingers against his mouth. His eyes widened as he formed an idea and he went over to the fridge, opening the door and bending over to stick his head in as he rummaged around.

Louis tried so hard not to stare at Zayn’s ass. He really did. But he was bent over and it was right there and really, Louis is gonna have to try and approve jeans for the dress code at work because, god. If this was a different party and Louis was drunker, he would have probably wasted no time and gotten up behind him and that would be that, but this was Niall’s New Year’s Eve party, and this was Zayn his coworker, and Louis was not near drunk enough. But he could fix that last part, he realized, and took a quick shot of whatever he could find while Zayn was still preoccupied.

“Right,” Zayn grunted as he rose up and out of the fridge, kicking the door closed with his foot. He had two beer cans in each hand. “Whoever shotguns two of these first,” he said, placing them on the table in a neat little row. “Wins.”

“Wins what?” Louis prompted, picking up a beer can and fishing in his pocket for his key so he could poke a hole in it.

The corner of Zayn’s mouth quirked up and he shrugged. “We’ll see.”

Louis smirked. He liked the sound of that.

-

Zayn won the shotgunning contest, and though it was a close win Louis still complained that it didn’t count because, as Zayn had suggested the contest, he was obviously already very experienced at shotgunning and therefore had an unfair advantage. Zayn heard him out and then suggested that Louis pick the next contest. Louis of course picked body shots, his personal favorite drinking activity.

“Right,” Zayn said, holding the tequila in one hand and rubbing the back of his neck with the other. “How does this work, exactly?”

“It’s very simple,” Louis began, his words starting to slur a little as the alcohol starts to take effect. Luckily, he was sober enough for body shots (which he could do in his sleep, really), and the thought of doing them off Zayn was keeping him alert. “Salt, lime, tequila,” he said, holding up his hands in which he clutched a salt shaker and two limes. “The salt goes on the neck, the tequila goes in the belly button, and the lime goes in between the teeth,” he explained.

“Salt, lime, tequila,” Zayn repeated.

Louis nodded. “Right, so you lick the salt off the neck, you take the shot, and then you bite the lime.” There were several ways to take a body shot, but that was Louis’s favorite.

“Okay,” Zayn said. He leveled his eyes with Louis’s and licked his lips.

Louis swallowed. “Okay,” he breathed, staring at Zayn’s mouth longer than he should have liked.

“Right-o!” Harry chimed in, rubbing his hands together. “Who’s first?”

Louis had forgotten that he had called Harry, Niall, and Liam in for judging purposes. Turning, he saw that they were standing in a straight line parallel to Zayn and Louis. Harry had an expectant look on his face, his hands now perched on his hips, Niall was lazily drinking something out of a red solo cup, and Liam had his arms crossed. He raised a knowing eyebrow at Louis, who ignored him.

“I’ll go first,” Louis said, and then turned to Zayn. “To demonstrate,” he added.

Zayn nodded. “Right, okay.”

Harry helped Zayn lie down on the floor and take his hoodie off. Louis didn’t see how Zayn needed help doing either of those things, but he reckoned that given the chance he’d probably volunteer to help take off his shirt, too. Especially given that Zayn was gorgeous, all muscular and taut and perfect with tattoos that stood out stark against his tanned skin.

Louis must have been staring too long, because from what seemed like far away Liam cleared his throat and said, “Right, I’ll time it. Whoever does it quicker wins, I imagine?”

Louis actually hadn’t thought of winning criteria. His mind just put body shot and Zayn together and he went with it. He made a mental note to thank Liam later and quickly nodded. “Yeah, yep, that’s it.”

Liam rolled his eyes, catching Louis’s bluff, and took out his iPhone. Louis knelt down and shook some salt out on Zayn’s neck, careful not to linger too long, while Harry  eagerly poured the tequila in Zayn’s belly button. Zayn shifted a little at the feeling, and Niall stuck the lime between his teeth and gave him a pat on the cheek.

“Well,” Louis scooched over on his knees and threw one leg over Zayn’s body, straddling him. Zayn looked a bit vulnerable, stretched out in all his glory before Louis, looking up at him expectantly with the lime in his mouth. Louis cleared his throat. “You ready?” he asked Liam.

“Yep,” Liam said, staring at his phone intently.

“You need to start right when I go for his neck,” Louis instructed.

“I got it, Lou, just do it,” Liam said, his eyes flashing at Louis. And, right, Louis was probably stalling. This made him nervous, he found. Zayn made him nervous.

Niall and Harry stood patiently on either side of Liam, looking expectantly at Louis.

“Right then, here we go,” Louis muttered, and then leaned forward, slowly.

He heard the timer beep on Liam’s phone, and he remembered that this was a contest, and Louis hated nothing more than losing at his own game. In this case, the game was body shots, and he was damn good at them, so fuck if he was gonna let his nerves get the best of him. He shot forward and latched on to Zayn, licking a stripe from his collarbone to almost his ear (Harry was really generous with the salt) as quickly as possible without getting caught up in the fact that he was licking Zayn’s neck. With the salt fresh on his tongue, he quickly moved down to Zayn’s navel, fitting his mouth around the belly button and slurping the tequila into his mouth. He swallowed and moved back up to Zayn’s face. He hovered for a second, locking eyes with Zayn and taking a breath before diving down, pressing his lips to his and taking the lime into his mouth. All Louis could really taste was the salt and the lime, but Zayn’s lips were soft and warm and their breath intermingled for a second before Louis pulled off and sat up.

“Time,” Liam said, followed by a round of clapping from Harry and Niall. Louis sat chewing the lime, his eyes still locked on Zayn’s.

“That was fun,” Zayn breathed, his mouth widening into a grin as he propped himself up on his elbows.

Louis finished the lime and tossed the peel at Zayn’s obscene abs. “Liam?” he called.

“Six seconds,” Liam answered. He’s giving Louis that look again.

Louis ignored him, turned back to Zayn and give him a smug look that said beat that. Zayn just grinned harder and stood up, retrieving his hoodie from Harry and pulling it back over his head. Harry pouted. Louis tried not to. “Me next?” Zayn asked, looking from Louis to Harry, Niall, and Liam.

“Yep,” Louis said as nonchalantly as he could. He was still kneeling on the floor, so he quickly threw his shirt off and just plopped backwards and straightened himself out, crossing his arms behind his head like he did this all the time. Which, he did.

While Harry and Niall took care of the salt and lime, Zayn crouched down and poured the tequila. Louis’s belly button overflowed a little and Zayn caught the extra tequila with his thumb, sucking it clean and winking at Louis before going to straddle him. Jesus Christ.

Niall and Harry stood by Liam again, who just gave an exasperated sigh. He readied the timer on his phone again and nodded at Zayn, who glanced at Louis again before shooting forward.

His lips first reached Louis’s collarbone and oh. His mouth closed around it and he sucked on it slowly, applying the slightest bit of pressure with his teeth before advancing up Louis’s neck with his tongue, slowly, stopping every few inches to suck on a patch of skin and Louis was pretty sure he was going to faint, or worse, get hard, if Zayn kept taking his time like this, tickling him with his stubble. He got to the tip of his neck, and Louis was pretty sure he was about to move on to his belly button the way he took a breath and hesitated. But no, he just went and sucked on Louis’s earlobe, like it was no big fucking deal, and Louis shuddered because god, Zayn was thorough.

Then he moved down to Louis’s belly, letting out hot breath on Louis’s skin as he trailed down his body. He closed his mouth around Louis’s belly button and started slurping loudly, swirling his tongue around, and, god, Louis could see the flashes of pink as Zayn virtually snogged his belly button, sucking on the skin around it before he pulled off. He looked Louis straight in the eye and Louis almost gasped because he had honestly forgot about the lime in his mouth, which was currently where Zayn was headed.

Louis had to close his eyes when Zayn closed his mouth around his, because he was certain he would not be able to handle watching Zayn kiss him after the number he did on his navel. He was probably right, because after pressing his lips against Louis’s, Zayn bit his bottom lip so hard it almost hurt, and then slowly licked across it to soothe it, before taking the lime between his own teeth and pulling away.

“Uh...time,” Liam said, his voice thin. He cleared his throat and said, “Fifteen seconds. Yeah, Louis won.”

Louis opened his eyes and just laid there, panting, while Zayn tossed the peel away and smirked down at him. “Oh, well. Guess I’m just not cut out for body shots.”

Harry was standing there with his fist literally in his mouth while Niall just stood there with his mouth hanging open. He tried to pour some of his drink in his mouth but almost missed because he couldn’t stop staring. Liam put his phone back in his pocket and just kept clearing his throat, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Louis finally remembered how to speak. “Yeah, um...” Barely.

Zayn got off Louis and stood up, offering his hand. Louis propped himself up on his elbows and let himself be hoisted up because god, Zayn was strong. He swallowed hard and tried to regulate his breathing again as he straightened up. “Nice ink, by the way,” Zayn said as he handed Louis his shirt, his eyes flicking up and down his body.

Louis looked down at himself and all his tattoos and cleared his throat. “Thanks,” he said, pulling his shirt back over his head.

“Right, so...” Zayn hummed, nonchalant as ever, glancing between the three boys. “What’s next?” he asked.

“Um,” Liam cleared his throat again. “I need another drink.”

“Yup,” Niall said.

“Me too,” Harry sighed.

-

The five boys went their separate ways for awhile. Louis ventured back out into the living room and had a few more drinks, just beers and some cokes and rum, nothing too hard. Nevertheless, as he flitted around the room and avoided Harry, Niall, Liam, and Zayn by chatting up with some of the other co workers around his age, he could really feel the alcohol wearing down on him. He started giggling a lot more, which happened when he got drunk, and there was this buzzing in his head that made it hard to focus on his conversations. The ones he remembered, anyways.

Harry was asleep on the sofa, which meant he was drunk. Harry and Louis were very alike when they got drunk in that they both giggled a lot, usually together, but Harry had always been a bit of a lightweight and just ended up passing out somewhere really early. He made it to 11:30, though, which was impressive for Harry. Liam sat next to Harry’s sleeping form, stroking his curls absentmindedly as he sipped a beer.

The flat was smaller than it had initially seemed, so everywhere Louis went it seemed there was someone he did not want to see. Niall had just announced a beer pong tournament, and Louis had probably had enough competition to last a week. Louis knew Liam would probably bring up Zayn and like, talk about feelings and shit, and Louis was definitely not about that right now.

So he decided to grab a bottle of water from the fridge and retreat to the roof, thanking god that Niall had a loft. The brisk, night air stimulated his senses and he felt a little more alert, although he was forming a terrible headache. He unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and chugged some of it down, flinching at how cold the water was from the fridge but reminding himself that he’d be thankful in the morning when he didn’t have such a raging hangover.

A fireworks show had already started somewhere in the city. Louis watched it light up the sky and started settling into the peace and quiet of the night, one hand in his pocket while he swigged his water, when he heard a cough behind him. Louis let out a squeak, jumped and whirled around, his water sloshing about.

It was Zayn, of course it was Zayn, who held his palms up in surrender. “Whoa, hey, sorry,” he said.

“You again,” Louis scoffed, sounding a little meaner than he intended, but he was usually the one taking people by surprise and he loathed being on the receiving end.

“Me again,” Zayn just echoed, smiling. “Sorry I scared you.” His face was so earnest, his eyes so kind, Louis wanted to punch him.

“You didn’t scare me,” Louis quickly corrected him. He brushed his hair back with his fingers. “I was just...zoning out, is all.”

Zayn pursed his lips. “Right, well...” he rubbed the back of his head. “I was just coming up for a bit of fresh air, but if you wanna be alone, that’s cool.” He turned to go.

“Wait,” Louis heard himself say. Zayn turned back towards him, his hands shoved in his pockets. “You can stay. Y’know, if you want.” And what the hell was that?

Before Louis could change his mind, Zayn was smiling with his crinkly eyes and sidling up next to him, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Cool fireworks,” he said, nodding towards the skyline.

“Yeah.” Louis didn’t really know what else to say. When he had a beautiful boy standing next to you on New Year’s Eve below fireworks, there wasn’t really much. So he just settled on staring up at the sky and drinking his water and feeling the warmth radiate from Zayn’s body. Strangely enough, he didn’t feel nervous right now, and though he blamed that on the alcohol he decided to enjoy his borrowed peace.

Louis didn’t know how much time had passed before Zayn broke the silence. “What’s your New Year’s Resolution?” he asked, turning his head towards Louis’s.

“Um...” Louis pondered. He hadn’t really thought about it, if he was being honest. He actually couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual New Year’s Resolution. “You first.”

Zayn chuckled, then his face put on that thoughtful look it wore at work sometimes. Pursed lips, eyes a little squinty. “I think my New Year’s Resolution is to be a better bagger,” he decided.

Louis raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?” He hadn’t been expecting that.

Zayn nodded. “Yeah, like. I’m shit at it, and I’d like to keep a job this year.” He looked down at the ground and kicked a stray pebble.

Louis frowned. “Well...I wouldn’t say you were shit, per se,” he said. “I think you just need more practice. You’re a fine bagger, really.”

Zayn raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”

“For a new guy, yeah,” Louis nodded. He meant it. Louis was always astounded at how quickly new baggers seemed to take it up. The first time he ever bagged, it was a disaster. He struggled opening up a paper bag, he put bread on the bottom of the bag thinking it was crackers (which didn’t really make it any better), and he was impossibly slow. “Why’d you let them take you out of produce, anyway?” he asked.

Zayn shrugged. “Liam put in a good word for me, so I didn’t really wanna say no after that, like. Produce was alright, but they offered me a raise for switching departments,” he explained, then grinned before adding, “Plus, blue is my favorite color.”

They glanced at each other and Louis started laughing harder than he probably should have, because it wasn’t the funniest thing he’d ever heard by a landslide, but he was still a bit drunk and Zayn was laughing too so it was alright. “Well, that’s a reason if I ever heard one,” Louis said between giggles, and he almost meant it, because really, Zayn looked fantastic in blue.

After they stopped laughing, Louis asked Zayn how long he’d known Liam. “Well, we were roommates at uni for our first year, before he transferred. So since then, I’d say,” Zayn replied. “And you?”

“Well...” Louis scratched at his chin and did some calculations in his head. “I started cashiering when I turned 16, and Liam had already been working there, so...” he paused. “Shit, six years, I guess.”

“Six years?” Zayn whistled. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow is right,” Louis murmured, shaking his head. It seemed like just yesterday when Liam had bagged for Louis on his first day, and Louis had spilled soup all over the register. Liam had immediately offered to help and grabbed extra paper towels and even apologized a few times. Louis hadn’t shaken him since. “Next Niall started working there, then Harry, and the four of us just kind of became inseparable.”

Zayn nodded. “Yeah, Niall told me about that.”

Louis quirked an eyebrow. “So you’re friends with Niall, then?” he asked.

Zayn shrugged. “I guess. He invited me to this party, after all.”

Huh. Louis hadn’t pieced that together. “So...you went to this party last year, too.”

“Yeah,” Zayn said, then looked at Louis. “Maybe if you had gone last year you could’ve taught me how to do body shots sooner.” Then he winked and looked back up at the sky.

Louis swallowed hard, then realized Zayn was right and cursed himself for knocking Niall’s parties for so long. He shook his head, because it was in the past, and they were here now weren’t they?

“Um, right, anyway...” Louis continued what he was saying earlier. “We were all baggers and cashiers until everyone started turning eighteen and Niall switched to deli, and then Harry started out as the cafe boy. Now that Liam’s in dairy, it’s just me up front,” he remembered with a frown.

“Well,” Zayn said. “You’ve got me.”

Louis looked at Zayn. He was still looking up at the sky, his face illuminated by some color or other every few seconds as another firework went off. Louis had a strange, sudden urge to grab his hand, but his hands were still shoved in his pockets, so instead Louis settled for studying his face. His eyes traced Zayn’s jawline for probably the umpteenth time that week, lingering on his dark stubble that reached up to his cheekbones. Zayn’s countenance was serene and even thoughtful as he looked up at the fireworks, his eyes warm and brown as ever as he blinked those long eyelashes.

Suddenly Louis realized that Zayn had asked him something and he blinked rapidly, trying to gather his thoughts other than god, you’re attractive and hoping Zayn hadn’t noticed him staring. “Hm? What?” he managed before clearing his throat.

“I said, what’s yours?” Zayn repeated, looking at Louis again.

Louis blinked. “What’s my what?”

“Your resolution,” Zayn said, slowly.

“My--oh, right,” Louis gasped. “Right. Um...” he still hadn’t thought of one. Well, he’d thought of a few, actually, but they all involved Zayn and activities he would rather not repeat. In reality, though, he had no idea what he wanted to accomplish in the next year. Liam was talking about going back to school, Harry was considering taking a job at the new bakery downtown, and Niall wanted to start focusing on his music. The only thing Louis could see down the road for him was...working this part-time cashier job, which had seemed totally cool at 16 years old, and honestly still was cool to him six years later, because he got to work with his best mates around. But now his best mates, he feared, were starting to move on from their safe little bubble of a grocery store, and Louis wasn’t ready yet. Finally, he shrugged. “I really don’t know,” he sighed.

Zayn must have noticed the discouraged look on Louis’s face, because he gently bumped his shoulder. “Hey,” he murmured. “That’s okay. You’ll think of one.”

Louis looked at Zayn and their eyes met, blue green on brown, and Louis’s thoughts and feelings stopped whirlwinding around in his head and settled to sleep. Zayn’s eyes were like anchors, keeping Louis and his thoughts on the ground. He felt a little better. He felt okay, for the moment. And, Zayn was right: Louis did have him. He barely knew him, and maybe Louis was drunk, but he was incredibly kind, and caring, and he liked him, and he had him.

“Oi!” they suddenly heard Niall yell from downstairs. “It’s almost midnight!”

A chorus of cheers abruptly rose from the party, and after a few moments the countdown began. “Ten, nine, eight, seven...”

Louis had an idea and a slow smile spread across his lips. “How about one more dare for the year, then?” he suggested.

Zayn mirrored his smile, looking at Louis curiously. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Hmm...” Louis tapped his finger against his chin in mock consideration.

“Six, five, four...”

“I dare you to do this,” Louis said, and kissed him.

“Three, two, one...HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

It was a proper kiss, not dirty and messy like the body shot ones had been. Louis’s lips were gently pressed to Zayn’s, almost chastely, before Zayn opened his mouth a little and they melted into each other, Louis reaching up to cup Zayn’s neck as Zayn hooked an arm around Louis’s waist. The kiss was lazy and slow and good, a moment of calm in the midst of all the noise downstairs and the bursts of color and light that were happening more fervently above their heads now.

After a minute Zayn pulled away and stared at Louis. They both giggled and pressed their foreheads together. “Happy New Year,” Zayn whispered.

Louis grinned. “Yeah.”

In another second Zayn was pulling away completely and sliding past Louis, who let out a giant breath and took another swig of his water bottle. He looked up at a firework that had just exploded, raining down flecks of gold. When he turned around, Zayn was gone.

-

“So, would you say there were...fireworks?” Harry asked, not lifting his head the coffee pot he was cleaning as steam rose from the sink.

“Bloody hell, Haz, do you really think I’m in the mood for puns right now?” Louis retorted, glaring at Harry, propped up on crossed arms and leaning on the cafe counter.

Harry twisted his head around to look back at Louis over his shoulder, a cheeky grin on his face. “You’re always in the mood for puns,” he said.

Louis glanced away. “That’s beside the point.”

Harry giggled and shut off the water, turning around to lean with his back against the sink as he dried the coffee pot with a cloth. “But seriously, Lou,” he began after a minute. “Did you feel anything? Were there figurative fireworks? Since, y’know, we’ve already established that there were literal ones.”

Louis shrugged. “I dunno. I was drunk, and I had a lot of adrenaline, and...” he sighed and brushed his hair back from his forehead. “I dunno, Haz. I just kissed him, that’s all there is to it.”

Harry looked up from the coffee pot and raised an eyebrow at him. “‘That’s all there is to it?’ Lou, come on. It’s never ‘all there is to it’ with you. Whenever you do something, there’s a reason.”

Louis focused his eyes on the gelato bar next to the coffee machine and didn’t respond.

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” Louis mumbled, still looking away.

“Do you wanna do it again?”

Louis buried his face in his arms and gave a muffled, “Yes.”

Harry huffed out a laugh. “Well, then why don’t you?”

“Because,” Louis whined, lifting his head up and looking at Harry. “It didn’t mean anything! It was just a dumb, silly New Year’s kiss. Which are childish and overrated and absolutely meaningless.”

“It sure seems like it meant a lot to you,” Harry pointed out, putting the coffee pot on the drying rack and tossing the cloth in the sink.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t,” Louis corrected, lifting himself up into a standing position while leaning only his palms on the counter. “I liked it, and I’d do it again. So what?”

“So what?” Harry echoed. “If you cared so little about it, you wouldn’t have come over here on your break to tell me about it, and furthermore, you probably would’ve forgotten about it by now.”

Louis opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself. Instead he just scowled at Harry, who crossed his arms defiantly. Louis hated when Harry was right, which, to be honest, was often. ‘Well, what am I supposed to do about it?” he demanded angrily.

Harry lifted a shoulder. “Well, do you like him?”

“No,” Louis immediately replied, then paused to consider it. “Maybe. I dunno.”

“Well, figure it out,” Harry said, pushing himself off from the counter and grabbing a broom. “For the record, Liam and I both think you do,” he added, pushing through the swinging double doors that led into the cafe area itself. “Haven’t asked Niall yet.”

Louis glared at Harry again. He really hated when he was right, and he also hated it when Niall and Liam and Harry were right at the same time. “My ten minutes are up,” he growled, stalking past Harry as he started sweeping around the little tables.

“See ya later, Lou,” he heard Harry chuckle from behind as he stomped away. Damn him.

He arrived back up front and Paul immediately ordered him to go facing. Louis quickly formed a case in his head, about how senior cashiers who have been working for six years really shouldn’t be pegged down to facing. Facing was for little baby cashiers who didn’t know where anything in the store was located and who were too annoying to keep up front. Louis hated facing, but Paul explained that that last bit about being too annoying to keep up front was his motive exactly, so he just groaned very audibly and skulked away to aisle six.

Aisle six was the only aisle Louis ever felt like facing. Aisle two was okay, because salad dressing was easy and there was a lot of it in aisle two, but after the salad dressing he was miserable. Aisle eight had cat food, which was his favorite thing to face, but doing the bread was tedious and required concentration in making sure they were lined up based on expiration date. He was already miserable enough facing let alone being forced to concentrate on it. Aisle three was miserable, all these cans of soup and and beans that he was convinced were designed specifically to fuck with his head. No matter how he stacked them, rotated them, turned them upside down, they never stood on top of each other correctly. And when he’d deem one stack good enough, he’d move on to another stack and accidentally brush something with his elbow the wrong way and the first stack would come crashing down. It was hell. Louis was convinced that when he died and undoubtedly went downstairs for reasons too numerous to dictate, he would be in aisle three stacking cans of beans for all eternity.

But aisle six was easy. Aisle six, on one side, had gallons of water and 2-liter bottles of seltzer and vitamin waters and six-packs of soda. The other side was more soda, baby supplies, shampoo, bandaids, vitamins, and toothpaste. He preferred the soda side to the health needs side, but they were reasonably doable so he could zone out and let time fly by.

Except, someone else was already in aisle six, staring hopelessly at two tubes of toothpaste in each of his hands. Louis noticed his tall-dark-and-handsomeness and immediately recognized who it was. For the love of Christ.

“Hi, Zayn,” he huffed, getting really pissed off at the universe constantly putting the two of them in the same places at the worst times. One good thing about facing was that he could be left alone to his thoughts, but as it turned out his favorite aisle was occupied by the same person occupying his thoughts.

Zayn saw Louis and his face broke out into a grin. Louis wanted to scream. “Hey, Louis,” he said, and his voice automatically reminded Louis of the rooftop.

“Hello,” Louis replied, wanting to smack himself because you already said that you idiot. “I see that you’re busy here, so...I’ll just go face the cat food or something,” he said in a rush, turning to go, because Paul had a strict one-person-per-aisle rule.

“Um,” he heard Zayn say, and turned back to him. He was still holding the tubes of toothpaste. “This is my first time doing, like...” he said, holding up the tubes with a sheepish look on his face. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

And Louis really should’ve just laughed at him and walked away, because as tedious as it was facing was the easiest thing in the world to figure out, and Paul really hated it when two people faced one aisle, but Zayn had this helpless look in his big stupid brown eyes and he looked so good in blue, Louis really had no choice but to stick around and teach him how to properly face.

It really was simple. You just pulled all the stuff on the shelves forward so it looked nicer and was more accessible to the customers. But there were rules, like you had to pull at least two items forward at a time, and you had to make sure it was all in the right spot with the right price and everything. And it was boring.

They stuck to their own side of the aisle, but as Zayn started to pick it up and Louis didn’t have to look over his shoulder every few minutes to make sure he was doing alright, they started chatting.

Zayn was from Bradford, and as they had established on New Year’s Eve, he had roomed with Liam during his first year at uni. Liam had eventually transferred, but they had stayed in touch over the years and got together every once in awhile. Then when Zayn had moved to the area and was looking for a job, because he had a degree in English and wanted to do anything but teach, Liam hooked him up with the grocery store.

“And the rest is history, like. Right now my life is going nowhere,” Zayn said with a wistful smile as he fiddled with the seltzer water bottles. His voice lacked all of the anxiety and panic that Louis did whenever he talked about the future, and Louis felt a twinge of envy. He imagined when Zayn wasn’t working, he traipsed around his flat quoting Hemingway and drinking exotic tea and not giving a fuck. When Louis wasn’t working, which was hardly ever, he was with the boys or drinking alone at his own flat, staring into his glass and wondering what he was waiting for.

“What about you?” Zayn was asking him, and Louis interrupted his internal soliloquy to give Zayn a brief telling of his life story.

He had grown up in Doncaster, with his mum and sisters, and not much of a father to be heard of. He was the man of the house for as long as he can remember, so that was most of what his life was about: taking care of his girls. They couldn’t afford to send him to uni, so he kept work at the grocery store, and never let his mum hear him complain. He didn’t, anyway--work was a four letter word, but he got to see his best lads almost every day. Considering that he still managed to keep a decent flat despite sending most of his paycheck to Doncaster every week, he could’ve gotten off worse.

“Wow,” Zayn said, looking over his shoulder at Louis, stilling his hands. Louis glanced back and raised an eyebrow. “No--that’s, that’s fucking awesome, man. I wish...I can’t really afford to send anything to my family, like. I’d love to just give back to them like you do.”

Hearing the admiration in Zayn’s voice, Louis felt a flush rise to his skin, but he shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like I have a choice. If I didn’t have my family, I’d have nothing.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Zayn said, knitting his eyebrows together. “You have Liam and Harry and Niall.”

“Yeah, well,” Louis said, turning back to the vitamins. “I won’t forever.”

“Why do you say that?” Zayn asked. Louis could almost hear him frowning.

“Because.” He shrugged. “They’ve all got their own plans and degrees and, like, futures. This is kind of it for me,” he explained nonchalantly, trying not to sound like he was pitying himself. Because he wasn’t. He had too much to be thankful for.

“Yeah,” Zayn said after a pause. “I know the feeling.”

The conversation turned toward football and how Harry was off the walls about the Liverpool and Manchester United game coming up and Louis started talking about how he used to play football in school, and sometimes he still did play with Liam on a good day off. Zayn, in turn, talked about how he had won an art contest in high school and how he wished he had more time to draw these days.

Before he knew it, Louis’s shift was over. He was surprisingly loathe to leave Zayn to his own devices, but he walked out of the store in a better mood than usual. He blamed it on the good weather.

-

Paul sent Zayn facing an awful lot after that, because as it turned out Zayn was damn good at it once he knew what he was doing. Customers liked him more and more because if they asked he could tell them where anything was. Coconut milk? Aisle three. Almond flour? Aisle four. Canned chipotle peppers? Aisle two, but you can try produce as well. That was the other thing--if someone needed a price check on some fruit or a different kind of onion or whatever, Zayn was on it because no one up front knew the produce department like he did. It was rather impressive, actually, and more than once Louis actually saw Zayn feed a PLU number to one of the younger cashiers because he remembered the little stickers he used to put on all the fruit.

“You’re becoming the right little favorite then, aren’t you?” Louis teased him the next time they were facing together.

“Fuck off,” Zayn said, the corner of his mouth twisting up. “I’m just trying to be better.”

“I know,” Louis said, and it was true. He recalled what Zayn had said on the rooftop on New Year’s Eve, about how his resolution was to be a better bagger, and Louis was about to comment on how that was coming true after all, but then he remembered what had happened after they shared their resolutions, so he shut up and focused on making the bath soaps look neat.

That was the other thing: Louis found himself facing more than usual as well.  That was probably on account of every time Zayn was sent facing, he’d ask to go too. But nevertheless, he was spending a lot more time with Zayn and it wasn’t such a terrible thing. As much as he had admittedly tried to dislike Zayn at first, he realized that it wasn’t Zayn he had disliked so much, but the change that he represented. Having Zayn up front meant that Liam wasn’t, and that Louis’s way of life was hitting a bump. Now that he’d known him for several weeks, Zayn was becoming less of a change and more of a constant, especially since when they weren’t chatting up front they were chatting in the aisles.

“Come on, Zayn,” he whined later on another facing session.

“I’m telling you,” Zayn insisted from atop the footstool they used to face the top shelves. “There wasn’t one, not everybody has one.”

Louis stood at the base of the footstool and placed his hands on his hips. “That’s bullshit and you know it,” he said, frowning up at Zayn. “Liam had Danielle, Harry had Caroline, and Niall...well, he’s still with Barbara, but we’re convinced he’ll turn around at some point,” he said, waving his hand dismissively.

“Alright then,” Zayn said, pausing his work to look down at Louis. “Let’s hear yours.”

“Fine,” Louis barked, feeling a flush rise to his skin when met Zayn’s intense gaze inches away from his face. He cleared his throat. “Right, well,” he started. “Her name was Eleanor and she was quite possibly the sweetest girl to ever walk the planet.”

“Was?” Zayn echoed, a smirk rising to his lips. “Did you kill her or something?”

“What? No,” Louis corrected, swatting Zayn in the arm. “It’s just we don’t exactly keep in touch. She was my friend for ages, and we dated through high school and she actually wanted me to go to uni with her, but um...” he shook his head. “After graduation I told her what was what and she didn’t really take it well. I mean--she was fine with me being whatever, and she was happy that I told her, but I reckon she felt a bit used,” he said, smiling sadly. He had always felt bad about screwing things up with Eleanor, because she really was a lovely girl, and especially right now it would’ve been good to have a friend outside the grocery store.

“Yeah, I reckon,” Zayn chuckled.

“Okay, I told you mine. Now you have to tell me yours,” Louis said, placing his hands back on his hips and narrowing his eyes. He didn’t care if it was childish, he wanted to hear the damn story.

Zayn sighed. “Fine, fine.” He climbed down off the footstool and leaned his back against the shelf. “I met this girl, Perrie, when I was at uni. She was a music major and she had purple hair and she was an artist, like,” Zayn started, swallowing and looking up at the ceiling. “I sat next to her in on the first day of this literature class we were in and in a week we were dating. She was a great girlfriend, I mean, really great, but it got really serious really fast and sometimes I wonder where we’d be now if I hadn’t broken it off when I did,” Zayn said pensively (and really, Zayn was the only person Louis had ever known to say something pensively), and then he shrugged. “That’s it, I guess.”

Louis chewed on the inside of his cheek and nodded. He had never thought it’d last with Eleanor, because he knew exactly what their relationship had meant to him from the start, but if he had honestly just thought she was what he wanted, who knows what they would have been now? Maybe he would have quit his cashiering job and run off to uni with her, maybe they’d be living together. Then again, maybe he’d still be lying to himself.

“Wow,” he finally said. “So I take it she sat with someone else in your literature class after she found out, yeah?” he chuckled.

Zayn grinned, but he shook his head. “No, actually--she was totally cool with it and we’ve been friends ever since. We’re flatmates now, actually.”

Louis’s eyebrows shot up. “Wh--really?”

Zayn nodded. “Yeah, man.”

“Wow,” Louis huffed, blinking rapidly. So, now Zayn had one-upped him on two things: not panicking about the future, and not royally fucking things up with his closet-era girlfriend. Just think: flatmates.

Zayn just smiled and shrugged. “It’s no big deal, really. It wasn’t that she, like, turned me or whatever. I just kept having this feeling like she just wasn’t, like...” he trailed off, biting his tongue between his teeth as he searched for the right word.

“What you wanted?” Louis supplied. He thought of what Perrie must look like--an artist-type with purple hair who was into music and literature and he thought, yeah, definitely Zayn’s type. “When, theoretically, she should’ve been.”

Zayn nodded. “Yeah, exactly.”

“As kids, everyone thought me and Eleanor would be together because we just...made sense,” Louis mused. “We were in honors classes together, she was a cheerleader, I played football...it made perfect sense to everyone except me, because she wasn’t what I wanted.”

Zayn nodded, his eyes on Louis, and he folded the footstool up and leaned it against the shelf as he moved closer to Louis. “And what is it you want, then?” he asked in a low voice, leaning one hand on the shelf and smirking.

Which, no. Louis was not going to let Zayn Malik reduce him to a puddly mess in the middle of aisle six with his stupid eyes and his stupid cheekbones and his stupid crinkly smile again (it’d already happened twice this week). At least, not without returning the favor.

“Cocks, obviously,” he wasted no time saying, giving Zayn a slow smirk.

Zayn’s own smirk fell and he actually looked taken aback, which was new for Zayn, since Louis usually didn’t have an answer ready, and he cleared his throat twice before attempting a chuckle and retreating further down the aisle to continue facing. He shifted uncomfortably as he worked on the baby food, and after a few minutes Paul called him up front and he didn’t return.

Louis started laughing as soon as Zayn was out of earshot. He’d won that round, then.

-

Pretty soon it was time for Harry’s birthday, and like every year, it was unanimously decided by Louis, Niall, and Liam that they would take him out to his favorite karaoke sushi bar and shower him with presents and cake and booze.

This year, though, Louis had something more in mind.

“D’you think it’d be ok with Harry if I invited Zayn?” he asked Liam on the last day of January as they shared a sandwich in the break room.

Liam looked up from his phone and stopped chewing for a second. “I mean,” he said with his mouth full. “You’d have to ask Harry.”

“Right, you’re right.” Louis nodded and went back to his sandwich.

Liam continued chewing but he kept his eyes narrowed at Louis. “Why do you want to invite Zayn?” he asked after he swallowed.

“Dunno,” Louis shrugged. “He doesn’t get out much. Thought it’d be nice.”

“You thought it’d be...nice,” Liam echoed slowly. Louis nodded and took another bite out of his sandwich. “Louis,” Liam started, putting his sandwich down and folding his hands on the table plaintively. “I’ve known you for six years, and I have not once seen or heard of you doing anything for anyone just to be nice. Unless it was me or Harry or Niall or your family.”

“Thanks,” Louis grunted, still chewing.

“I’m just saying,” Liam said, opening his palms defensively. “You do things ‘cause you want to do them and you want to do them for a reason.”

“Why can’t my reason be that I’m nice?” Louis challenged.

Liam stared at him blankly.

“Oh, come on,” Louis groaned, tossing the crust of his sandwich down. “I don’t have some hidden agenda, Liam, he’s a decent guy and I think the lads like him.”

“I think you like him,” Liam mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?” Liam snapped, but he had definitely heard him.

“Nothing,” Liam said with a grin.

Louis gritted his teeth. “Forget it, then, I won’t invite him.”

“No, no, no!” Liam said quickly. “I didn’t say that! You should, you should definitely invite him. You’re right, we all like him, go on and ask Harry,” he said, leaning across the table and shoving Louis’s phone into his hand.

Louis glared at his phone and then at Liam. “Fine.”

Hey is it cool w u if zayn comes to ur thing tomorrow night? He typed, addressed it to Harry, and hit SEND.

Within a minute, Louis’s phone buzzed with Harry’s reply:

Yeah absolutely!!!! Zayn is so cool!!! tell him to bring me a present ;) .x

“Well, then,” Liam said from where he had leaned over to read Harry’s text. “That’s that, isn’t it?”

Louis groaned but didn’t protest as Liam took the last bite of his sandwich, grinning cheek-to-cheek.

-

Harry loved his presents, like he did every year.

Niall got him killer new guitar strings, since he and Harry were always geeking out over music. Harry wanted to go home right away and put them on his guitar and Louis and Liam had to physically restrain him because there were more presents and they hadn’t even had cake yet.

Louis got him new leather boot cleaner because he ran out last month, and a wrapped bundle of headbands he had made at home. “I cut up a bunch of my old t-shirts,” he explained as Harry held the headbands up with a look of awe. Harry immediately put one of them on and wrapped Louis up in a hug.

“Thank you,” he said into his neck.

Louis beamed and squeezed him back. He was afraid Harry would be disappointed, because usually he would spend time and money on a more detailed gift, but this year he had to make do and Harry loved it all the same.

Liam took the prize for Best Gift of the Night, though (as Louis slipped money into Niall’s hand, who whispered “Told ya,” and grinned), and Harry looked like he was about to cry as he took a clear CD case out of a tiny bag of tissue paper. Happy Birthday Harry, xx Liam was scrawled in orange sharpie on the disc.

“It’s just a bunch of songs you like,” Liam said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “And, uh, ones that I like that make me think of you. It’s kinda shit, really.”

But Harry really looked like he was about to cry and he almost knocked all the sushi off the table as he launched himself at Liam and wrapped himself around him with a chorus of, “I love it, I love, love it, I can’t wait to listen to it, oh my god, thank you,” and Liam was over the fucking moon blushing and grinning.

Zayn just looked nervous, though, and didn’t say much during the sacred gift-giving ceremony, and Louis was beginning to fear that he was bored, or uncomfortable, because Zayn never acted nervous unless Louis was talking about dicks, which was often, but when Harry opened a bunch of bananas wrapped in newspaper, he knew why.

“Jesus christ,” Niall immediately sputtered, and consequently fell into a fit of laughter. Liam choked on his water and Harry just giggled a bit.

“I’m--I’m really sorry, Harry, I just...I didn’t have time to get you anything nice and I know you like bananas and I used to work in produce, like...” Zayn rambled, and then buried his face in his arms. “I thought it would be funny,” he said in a muffled voice.

And Zayn never got his tongue tied or got embarrassed, and Louis felt his heart swell up because Zayn had really, truly made an effort to make Harry’s birthday special.

“Zayn!” Harry piped up after his giggles died down. “Hey,” he reached over and patted Zayn’s arm, who looked up at him with sad brown eyes. “I love bananas. I hate having to buy them myself, this is great, and I love it.” Zayn sat up now, a hopeful smile beginning to play on his face, and Harry leaned over and planted a huge kiss on his forehead with a smack. “Thank you, Zayn,” Harry said before peeling one of the bananas and chomping down on it in the middle of a sushi bar. Zayn looked more than pleased, and if Louis wasn’t  sure before, he was definitely sure now that Harry was an honest-to-God angel.

Louis clapped his hands together. “Right, then!” he said. “I believe it’s time for cake.”

“Yaaaay,” Harry said around a mouth full of banana.

Louis ordered another round for everyone and they brought the cake out, double chocolate with as many candles as they could fit on top. They sang Happy Birthday with harmonies and everything and Harry made a wish and blew the candles out. Then, Louis stood up and tapped his glass with his fork.

“I propose a toast,” he announced, and raised his glass as the other three did the same. “To Harold. May you always be an impossible child who we all love dearly.”

“To Harold,” Niall, Liam, and Zayn echoed and the five of them clinked their glasses together. Harry looked blissful, with chocolate frosting on his chin and Liam’s arm slung around his shoulders.

An hour later they set up the karaoke machine and within minutes Harry was crooning into the microphone, that John Mayer song that he was always humming in the cafe, and Niall was on deck with a Bieber tune.

“Are you gonna sing something, Liam?” Zayn asked as Louis waved his cigarette lighter in one hand and held a beer in the other. He’d had a few drinks within the last hour.

“Nah,” Liam said, shrugging and lifting his beer to his lips. “I like watching Harry better.”

“Ah,” Zayn said nonchalantly, but looked over at Louis and raised his eyebrows.

Louis rolled his eyes dramatically and mouthed, Who knows? Liam and Harry had been dancing around each other for the better part of six years. Even he and Niall couldn’t figure it out.

Cheers rose from the audience as Harry finished up and he waved and got off the stage, high-fiving Niall in passing. Zayn patted Harry on the back and said, “You’re really good, man,” as Louis high-fived him and Liam hugged him and handed him a beer. Harry grinned and nodded and said thanks and was practically glowing. Karaoke night was his favorite night.

Niall’s Bieber song was the new one, so everyone started clapping and dancing around and laughing, which was always just what Niall wanted.

Zayn was a terrible dancer and he was laughing while Liam and Harry tried to pull him onto the dance floor with them, while Louis lazily twirled around, holding his beer and watching them.

And it was a nice image: Niall doing what he does best on stage, the crowd having a blast, his two best mates drunk and giggling and shoving each other around with his new mate. And, really, they all looked good together. Zayn shook off whatever nerves he had earlier and was acting more like himself, and if Louis squinted it looked like he had been there all along, filling in the space in group photos and the empty chair at dinner tables. Louis caught himself thinking, I could get used to this, and feeling rather fond of Zayn.

As Niall was finishing up, Louis sauntered up to Zayn and handed him a shot of...something. “I dare you to drink this and then go up there and sing,” he mumbled, his words all slurred because he had been drinking since two hours before they had even picked Harry up for dinner.

Zayn looked Louis up and down, looking thoughtful and kind of incredulous, just like he did on New Year’s Eve, and chuckled. “Okay then,” he said, and took the shot. As he was walking off towards the stage, he looked back over his shoulder and called, “Take yours, too!”

“Oh yeah,” Louis giggled, and threw back his own shot, cursing himself because Zayn was clearly more sober than he was.

He found Niall and Liam and Harry and told them Zayn was about to sing so they huddled up in the corner of the dance floor and waited, swigging their drinks and bouncing on their toes. In a few minutes, after a middle-aged guy thoroughly murdered a Carrie Underwood, they announced a Zayn Malik and Zayn strolled across the stage, raising a hand to the audience and adjusting the mic.

“Uh, before I start, this song is for Louis,” he said into the mic, and pointed into the crowd towards Louis. Half the restaurant, from the dance floor or from their seats or from the bar, turned and looked at Louis, who threw his palms up in surrender and prayed to whoever would listen that Zayn was not about to fucking serenade him.

Then the intro to “Thriller” started blaring through the karaoke speakers and the dance floor came to life as a huge cheer rose up from the crowd.

“Oh my god,” Louis groaned, out of relief or annoyance he couldn’t say.

Harry just squealed like a fucking girl and dragged Liam out on the dance floor, Niall bouncing at their heels. “C’mon, Lou!” he called, turning and whipping blonde hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah, no,” Louis said. Niall just waved him off dismissively and turned back to go follow Harry and Liam. Louis leaned against a post, took a sip of the vodka-whatever he had procured at some point, and watched Zayn.

The thing was, he was good. Really good. When Louis had dared him to go sing, he’d done it in the hopes of embarrassing him because he had assumed Zayn was terrible. When Zayn had just shrugged and moved confidently towards the stage, he should’ve known better.

The bastard was even doing half-decent signature Michael Jackson moves and riffs and what have you, and although plenty of things were happening on the dance floor, Louis found himself very interested in the one hand that lazily gripped the microphone, the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the way he closed his eyes and strained the muscles in his neck when he sang the bigger notes. By the time the song was over, he found his glass suddenly empty and his pants suddenly a little tighter than he remembered.

As Zayn left the stage and the crowd clapped wildly for him, a red-headed girl pranced by Louis. “Oh my god, you are so lucky!” she chirped as she passed.

“Oh, I’m not--” Louis tried to protest, but she was already gone. He groaned and stalked off towards the bar.

Harry and Niall and Liam found him while he was trying to order another drink, laughing and sweating all over each other in a drunken mess. “That was fuckin’ awesome!” Niall shouted. Zayn pushed through the crowd and joined them, a lopsided grin on his face. “You were fuckin’ awesome, man!” Niall shouted again, pushing Zayn hard in the chest.

“Thanks,” Zayn chuckled, rubbing the spot where Niall had hit him.

“I’m serious, man. You were really good. Almost as good as Harry,” Niall insisted.

“Almost,” Liam repeated, grinning and patting Zayn on the back. Harry beamed and ducked his head into Liam’s shoulder. “Great job, man,” Liam said.

“Yeah, that was so much fun, Zayn,” Harry agreed while Liam started petting his curls as he usually did when one or both of them were drunk.

“Thanks, guys,” Zayn said, glowing like a fool. His eyes found Louis sulking by the bar. “What’d you think, Louis?” he asked with a devilish grin.

Louis shrugged nonchalantly. “It was okay, I guess.”

“Oh, fuck off, Lou!” Niall yelled, throwing his hands up and abandoning them for the dance floor.

Harry started laughing but was cut off by a huge yawn. “I’m sleepy, Liam,” he mumbled into Liam’s shoulder.

“And drunk,” Zayn added.

“It’s eleven o’clock!” Louis interjected.

Harry shrugged and Liam slung an arm around him. “I’d better get him home,” he said as he started moving back in the direction of where they had been sitting. “You guys take care of Nialler, right?” he called over his shoulder.

“Yep,” Louis said as Zayn nodded and raised a hand goodbye.

When they were out of sight, Zayn turned to Louis. “So. I believe it’s your turn to sing,” he began, then ordered two shots from the bartender.

Louis groaned and shook his head. “No way in hell am I doing that.”

“Why not?” Zayn asked, turning back to him with two shots in his hands. He handed one to Louis and immediately threw his back, the muscles in his throat contracting and relaxing. He put the shot glass back down on the bar with a clack. “I dare you,” he said, smirking.

Louis couldn’t help but smirk back and, well.

That was how they ended up in the alleyway next to the building, the cold February night biting at Louis’s cheeks and fingertips as he pressed Zayn up against the wall and kissed him.

He had both hands braced beside Zayn’s head as he attacked his mouth, skipping ahead and sliding his tongue right in. Zayn made a noise but quickly relaxed, adding his own tongue and swirling it around Louis’s mouth. He had his fingers hooked through Louis’s belt loops, pulling him impossibly closer, each brush of their lips screaming for more.

The ghosts of their breaths mingled every time they parted, letting out tiny yeahs and gods and broken off little moans. There was a buzzing in Louis’s head and his blood was roaring in his ears as he ducked his head down to latch his mouth onto Zayn’s neck. Zayn groaned as Louis found his pulse point and sucked, swirling his tongue around and eliciting another moan from Zayn. He let go of his belt loops and reached around Louis, dipping beneath his jeans and squeezing his ass.

Louis let out a gasp and instinctively rolled his hips. Their cocks brushed together through their jeans and they both hissed. Louis removed himself from Zayn’s neck and returned to his mouth, moaning as they both started a slow grind against each other. Louis kissed Zayn again, sloppy and open-mouthed as they rolled their hips against each other and Zayn slotted his leg between Louis’s and god, Louis had never gotten off just by grinding a guy before, but Zayn was--fuck.

It was too much at once, with the being drunk and Zayn and everything else, Louis had to close his eyes and pull away, dragging Zayn’s bottom lip between his teeth. Zayn growled and tried to catch his mouth again, but Louis just needed to breathe so he shut his eyes and pressed his forehead to Zayn’s, their panting mixing in the air.

Then he opened his eyes and met Zayn’s, dark and hooded and also drunk, staring him down and it felt like he was piercing into every inch of Louis’s skin, seeing right through him and suddenly Louis felt naked in the best way. He wanted more, needed more, so he glanced down between them and reached one hand to Zayn’s belt buckle, keeping the other one braced by his head on the wall.

“Yeah,” Zayn breathed, the only fully audible word they’d made since they got out here. It went straight to Louis’s dick, so he tried to make his hand work as quickly as possible while Zayn just stood there panting in his ear.

“Lou?” He suddenly heard a voice call from far away. “Zayn?”

Shit. Shit.

Louis looked to his left down the alley, and lo and behold, there was Niall standing at the other end, peering through the darkness in a drunken stupor. “Niall?” Louis called.

“Oi!” Niall responded, lifting his arm in greeting.

Louis froze and immediately stepped back from Zayn, letting his hands fall to his sides. Zayn knocked his head back against the wall and sighed, but when he looked at Louis again his eyes hadn’t lost any of its intensity. He leaned forward and dragged his thumb across the bottom of his lip, giving him a slow smirk and a wink before pushing off from the wall and striding towards Niall. “You ready to go home, then?” he asked as he approached the end of the alley.

“Uh,” Niall said, swaying a bit. “Yeah...yeah.”

“I’ll call a cab,” Zayn chuckled, throwing his arm over Niall’s shoulders. He turned back towards Louis, still standing in the alleyway blinking like an idiot. “You coming, Louis?” he called.

And Louis almost scoffed because no, he would obviously not be coming tonight, thanks to Mr. Niall Cockblock Horan. But he just nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets and trudged after them, keeping his eyes on the ground and pretending to sleep the whole cab ride home.

-

The next morning, Louis found himself at register seven with a killer hangover, mild regrets, and a very loud Niall in his ear.

“Niall, Niall, Niall,” Louis whined, covering his hands with his ears and shutting his eyes. “Please, for the love of god, if you must speak, whisper. It is past my bedtime.”

Niall glanced at the huge clock on the wall above the store windows. “It’s eight-thirty,” he pointed out.

Louis opened one eye. “And?”

Niall glared at him, but lowered his voice considerably, thank god. “I might’ve been drunk last night, but I definitely know what I saw.”

Louis felt his heart speed up but tried to remain nonchalant as he reached underneath his register and pulled out the cleaner and a roll of paper towels. “And what do you think you saw, Niall?” he asked, trying to spray and wipe down his register without his stomach lurching at the smell of the cleaner.

“I don’t think,” Niall corrected, shaking his head. “I know I saw you two havin’ a pretty nice snog outside the bar.”

Louis’s stomach dropped, but he refused to meet Niall’s eyes. “And how drunk were you last night, Niall?” Louis prompted.

Niall rolled his eyes. “Not drunk enough to not see your hand down Zayn’s pants, that’s for sure,” he scoffed. “In the middle of the alley, Lou? Really, I expected somethin’ a little classier from you of all people.”

Louis gasped. “My hand was not down his pants, thank you very mu--,” he stopped when Niall suddenly clapped his hands together, and then he groaned. “Dammit.”

“Ha! Got you,” Niall jeered, jabbing a finger at Louis. “You were snoggin’ in the alley.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes Niall, very clever.”

Niall grinned mischievously and rubbed his hands together. “So what, are you guys like an item now?”

“What?” Louis snorted. “No.”

Niall furrowed his eyebrows. “No?”

“No,” Louis repeated, spraying cleaner on a paper towel before wiping his touch screen down.

“But...” Niall trailed off, blinking rapidly. “In the alley. I thought...”

 

“You thought what? It was just a hookup, Niall,” Louis explained, crumpling up the paper towel and tossing it in the trash can underneath his register.

“Yeah, but, you guys have been hangin’ out all the time in the aisles and stuff...and you invited him to Harry’s birthday, I just thought...” Niall shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you sure?”

Louis nodded. “I am absolutely sure. That’s not the first time we’ve kissed, y’know,” he pointed out, rubbing his temples and wishing they’d turn that damned classical music blasting from the intercom off.

Niall widened his eyes. “It’s not?”

“New Year’s Eve,” Louis muttered.

Niall gasped. “No.”

Louis nodded solemnly. “Yes.”

“Wh--how did I not know about this?” Niall demanded incredulously.

Louis shrugged. “Dunno. I only told Harry about it, really. He might’ve told Liam.”

“And not me?” Niall screeched, placing his hands on his hips.

Louis threw his hands up helplessly. “I dunno, Niall! It wasn’t that big of a deal, honestly.”

Niall paused for a second, the gears working hard in his brain. “Wait,” he said, then widened his eyes again. “The body shots. I should’ve known,” he groaned, slapping his hand to his forehead. “Jesus Christ.”

Louis just shrugged slowly at him.

Niall narrowed his eyes then, hesitating before speaking again. “So, lemme get this straight,” he started, then started counting on his fingers. “You...did body shots off each other at my party, kissed at my party, became buddies in the aisles, invited him to Harry’s birthday, got him to sing Thriller for you, got drunk together twice, and snogged in an alleyway.”

Louis pursed his lips and considered it all, then nodded. “Yeah, that about sums it up. Sometimes we take cigarette breaks together,” he added.

“Right,” Niall said, counting another finger. “And you aren’t...anything? No open relationship? Not dating? Friends with benefits?” he continued.

Louis shook his head. “Nope.”

“Hmm,” Niall hummed, crossing his arms and tapping his lips with a finger. “Hmm.”

Louis waited for him to say something else, and after he just stood there humming for a few moments he groaned. “Are you just gonna stand there all day, or will you leave me to suffer in peace?” he whined. “Honestly, how are you not hungover right now?”

Niall just shrugged and uncrossed his arms, but gave Louis a weird look as he slowly backed away. “I’ll see ya later, Lou,” he murmured before turning and walking off towards the deli.

Louis was thoroughly confused, but he honestly he couldn’t be bothered. His head was pounding too hard and the lights were too bright without having to worry about whatever was going on in Niall’s head.

A few minutes later, Zayn walked in through the main entrance, his blue smock slung over his shoulder. He was wearing his leather jacket, khakis, and he had an unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear. He turned his head and, catching Louis’s eye, nodded his head and winked.

Louis shivered and, seeing that the store was basically dead (such was the case on Sunday mornings) and one of the other cashiers seemed to have everything under control, asked Paul to go facing.

Twenty minutes later, Zayn found Louis with half of aisle six done already, though he was moving sluggishly. “How ya feeling?” he asked as he stalked down the aisle towards Louis.

Louis glanced at him and felt a flush rise to his skin as memories from the night before flooded his mind. “Like shit,” he replied. “You?”

Zayn shrugged. “The same,” he said. and got to work across from the aisle. A few minutes of silence passed between them, then, “Last night was...fun.”

Louis swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he said before clearing his throat. Then, without explanation, he smiled.

They didn’t bring up Harry’s birthday again after that, instead remarking on how slow today was probably going to end up being, and then Zayn started going off about some crazy thing Perrie did to her hair that week, and soon Louis was laughing till his face was red and he almost forgot all about the night before. Almost.

-

It happened two weeks later. Nothing was colossally different--aisle six remained pristine, a small hole tore in one of Zayn’s smock pockets, so Louis was often trailing after him picking up stray mentos that had fallen onto the floor, and he hadn’t been able to shake that feeling of fondness he had when he looked at Zayn since Harry’s birthday night.

Liam, Harry, and Niall hadn’t bothered Louis about any of it since Niall had confronted him about it, and he lived in blissful ignorance pretending that the boys had really just lost interest in his relationship with Zayn. He should’ve know better.

Despite his strongest protests and best efforts, Louis had in fact thought about his relationship with Zayn. He obviously found Zayn attractive, perfectly fuckable even, and he admitted to himself that yes, he very much enjoyed snogging him, and would even go so far as to say that he wouldn’t mind doing it again. Frequently. And he would agree that feeling sexual tension with and kissing his co-worker/friend more than once was unusual and probably not healthy.

But could he see himself with Zayn? Did he like Zayn? In a word, yes. He could see him and Zayn carpooling to work every other day, arriving early so they could sit in the cafe at the counter by the window while Harry yawned and brewed the day’s coffee. He could see buying rolls and slices of deli meat from Niall and sitting in the corner of the break room silently chewing until someone (probably Louis) started throwing crumbs at the other. He could see them hitting McDonald’s on half-hour breaks and bringing each other coffee when one of them had a closing shift. He could see himself at Zayn’s flat, drinking tea and reading over his shoulder and making fun of him with Perrie, who sounded like a lovely girl. And Louis stayed true to what he thought on New Year’s Eve: Zayn was caring and generous and quite a catch, really.

If he spent too much time thinking about it, though, something knotted in his stomach and his throat grew dry because he knew that it wouldn’t last. It couldn’t, not logically. Zayn, and also Harry and Liam and Niall, were in transient times. Someday, Harry and Liam would wake up and marry each other, and Harry would go off to some fancy culinary school in London, and Liam would go to grad school and make loads of money, and Niall would go off and become some Irish superstar and date supermodels, and Zayn would write a bestseller and travel the world signing books and falling in love with exotic artist types, and Louis would stand at his register until he died on the clock or the grocery store crumbled to the ground, whichever came first. Besides, if Zayn had any ounce of investment in any kind of furthering of their relationship, he would’ve mentioned after one of the two separate times they had kissed.

The truth was that, with the girls back home and working forty hours a week to get his rent to his flatmates on time (Aiden and Matt, who weren’t particularly fond of Louis and were constantly having noisy sex when he was home), Louis didn’t have room in his life for dreams; and he considered a future with Zayn a very big dream.

Long story short, Louis preferred to not think of Zayn outside the grocery store.

Still, he should’ve known that this strange in-between state Louis had been happily floating in would be ruined when one day Liam was coming down the stairs from the break room and saw Zayn and Louis throwing their coats on for their cigarette break.

“Are you two going to have a smoke?” Liam called from where he had stopped at the top of the landing.

“No, Liam, we’re going out to feed the horses,” Louis quipped, Zayn snickering as he wrapped a scarf around his neck.

“Do you wanna join?” Zayn offered.

“Um, actually,” Liam said, blinking a few times and looking awestruck before catapulting himself down the rest of the stairs. “I have to go right now, but you lads go on!” he called rapidly as he pushed past them and through the swinging doors behind the deli counter.

Zayn gave Louis a quizzical look and Louis shrugged helplessly. “He probably has to go take a shit or something,” he said, shaking his head and opening the door out onto the loading dock, a blast of cold slapping them in the face.

Louis bounced from one foot to the other to keep warm while Zayn took two cigarettes out of his pack and dug his lighter out of his pocket. “It’s cold,” Louis growled, watching his breath puff out into the air. “Zayn, why is it so cold?”

“S’not,” Zayn muttered as he lit his cigarette and poked a cigarette into Louis’s mouth, who pouted around it. “Maybe if you wore a proper coat and gloves to work,” he said as he held the lighter to Louis’s mouth.

Louis took a drag and purposefully blew a line of smoke into Zayn’s face. “Gloves are for the weak,” he replied.

“I’m cold, Zayn,” Zayn whined in his best Louis voice, imitating his pout with surprising accuracy.

Louis reached over and flicked Zayn in the arm. “Shut up.”

Zayn chuckled and held his cigarette between his teeth, unwinding his scarf and moving towards Louis. For a second Louis thought, well this it, Zayn is going to either kiss me again or smother me to death, but Zayn just stepped forward and wrapped the scarf around Louis’s neck, slowly arranging it so it covered his neck and a bit of his chin. If Louis shrugged enough his ears would be a little less nipped too. Louis was suddenly frozen, though, completely stilling himself while Zayn touched him with a certain tenderness Louis hadn’t seen before.

“There,” Zayn murmured, gently patting Louis on the shoulder when he was done. “Better?” he asked. Louis nodded, starting to feel it again all over, that weird kind of warmth he only felt when Zayn was close to him. “Good,” Zayn breathed, and Louis smelled smoke in the air, could taste it on his tongue and he wished they didn’t have cigarettes sticking out of their mouths because he suddenly wanted to taste it on Zayn’s tongue, too. His nerves buzzed with excitement and a sobriety he didn’t usually feel when he had the urge to kiss Zayn. They hadn’t been very intimate at all when they were sober, let alone kissed. The thought terrified Louis, but it also intrigued him.

A bird cawed in the distance and the moment was broken, but Louis didn’t feel too disappointed as he took a step back, storing the moment in the back of his brain for later, and launched into another complaint about Aiden and Matt, who after four years hadn’t quite grasped the concept of the sofa in the living room being for sitting and watching football on the telly, and not for snogging. Zayn laughed loudly, his breath puffing out in short little wisps as he looked at Louis with crinkly eyes as if to say, you did that.

Ten minutes went by as quickly as you’d expect, and Louis was still wearing Zayn’s scarf as they stamped out their cigarettes and found that the door out of the loading dock was locked.

“The fuck?” Zayn said. Louis shook the door handle a few more times and tried pushing it and pulling it again. It wouldn’t budge.

“Oh come on,” Louis groaned, digging around in his smock pockets. “Six years at this bloody grocery store and they never bloody lock the damn door...” he muttered angrily as he rummaged about, pulling out his phone finally. “I’m calling Liam.”

“No need,” a muffled voice came from the other side of the door.

Louis’s head shot up. “Liam?”

“That’s him,” another voice chuckled. Zayn and Louis exchanged bewildered looks. Harry?

“Uh--would you let us in, please?” Zayn called.

“Sorry boys, no can do,” a third voice replied. Louis recognized the accent immediately and groaned. Niall, of course.

“Alright, lads, Zayn and I have actual work to get back to, so if you wouldn’t mind...” Louis growled, tapping his foot. Zayn actually let out a snicker, and Louis glared daggers at him. “This is not funny until I say so, Malik,” he snapped. Zayn held up his hands in surrender but his lips were still twitching.

“We’d be happy to,” Harry said from behind the door. “Just as soon as you two sort yourselves out.”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck are you--”

“Oh, come on,” Niall chimed in. “Everyone at this store and their mums know there’s somethin’ goin’ on between the two of you. And now you’re gonna sort it out.”

Louis felt all the color drain from his face at once, like the ground had disappeared beneath him, and he wished it would swallow him up entirely. A hundred alarms were going off in his head and he felt Zayn’s eyes burning into his side as he stared at the door, but he would not let it get to him so soon. “Very funny,” he barked at the door. “But if we don’t get back right now, Paul will skin us alive. So.”

“Well, I guess that means you’re gonna have to get started, then,” Liam quipped immediately, earning a few muffled giggles from Niall and Harry. “Text one of us when you’ve finished,” he said, and they heard retreating footsteps and more snickering fading into the distance until they heard nothing at all.

“Liam!” Louis shouted in desperation, all but throwing himself at the door. He banged one fist on it and furiously jiggled the handle with the other. “Get back here this instant and let us in or I swear on my mother’s life...” he trailed off, waiting for a response. There was only silence at the other side of the door.

Louis relaxed his hands and leaned forward, resting his forehead on the door for a minute while he just breathed. He felt eyes burning into his back again and slowly turned around to face Zayn, who was standing there with his hands shoved into his coat pockets.

“Louis,” he said. “I--”

Panic bubbled up in Louis’s stomach and suddenly he was rushing to cut him off, talking a mile a minute. “Well, this is bloody ridiculous,” he began. “If we live through this I swear I’ll never talk to Liam again, or Niall, or Harry, but it’s very likely we’ll freeze to death out here, and this scarf is very cozy but I doubt it’ll be able to maintain a livable body temperature, and in a few hours they’ll come back and find our cold, dead corpses on the ground having our last cigarettes, or one of us will be eating the other for sustenance, and I’m sorry, but I’m not letting you eat me--”

“Louis,” Zayn said again.

“This really is bloody ridiculous, you know, expecting us to--to--,” Louis couldn’t even say it. Sort it out, he guessed. Talk about feelings and all that. “On the loading dock, of all bloody places! And we’re on the clock, and Paul is going to have our heads, and then sack us, and there goes six years of hard work and dedication, right down the drain, and our flatmates will kick us out, and we’ll live on the streets--”

“Louis.”

“--and we’ll grow really weird facial hair and die, probably--”

“Louis!” Zayn shouted.

“Bloody hell, what, Zayn?” Louis cried, and then Zayn was striding forward and taking Louis’s face with both hands and pressing their mouths together, and Louis forgot how to speak.

It wasn’t the smoothest kiss ever, Louis’s hands lifted dumbly in the air and Zayn trying to get his lips to relax against his, and the angle was awkward, but Louis’s entire body lit up with that weird warmth again and he couldn’t remember a time when it didn’t. After a few seconds Zayn was able to work Louis’s mouth open and they melted into each other comfortably, moving against each other languidly and not really going anywhere else until it just ended and they parted, staring at each other.

Zayn closed his eyes and sighed, pressing his forehead to Louis’s. Louis immediately reverted to New Year’s Eve, that moment after their drunken kiss when they had pressed their foreheads together and breathed each other in.  And the in the alleyway on Harry’s birthday. This time it was while sober, and Louis was aware of every nerve of his body and probably of Zayn’s too, and he was still tensed and still and didn’t know what to do, so he just closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing.

Until Zayn said, “I know how to do body shots.”

Louis’s eyes flew open and he pulled away a little. “What?”

“I learned how to do body shots when I was fifteen,” Zayn said, his hands still clutching Louis’s face.

“No,” Louis said slowly. “On New Year’s Eve I had to teach you.”

Zayn shook his head. “Louis, I learned how to do body shots when I was fifteen,” Zayn repeated.

“So then what--” It slowly dawned on Louis. “You lied? You could do body shots the whole time?”

Zayn chuckled. “Do you really think my first body shot would be that good?”

Louis remembered Zayn’s tongue, slick on his neck, and shivered. “Well, I--”

“And do you really think I didn’t know how to face?” Zayn asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Wh--you knew how to do that, too?!” Louis screeched.

“Yeah, you idiot,” Zayn laughed. “Of course I knew how to face. I’d been facing for, like, days.”

“But, you...and then I...” Louis trailed off, blinking rapidly. “What the fuck, Zayn!”

Zayn laughed again, his nose getting all crinkly and eyes lighting up, and Louis wanted to die. “Louis, I needed a way in, like. I’ve wanted to do that since I first met you.”

“Do what? Make me think you were daft?” Louis asked.

“Kiss you,” Zayn replied, dropping his hands from Louis’s face and pressing their foreheads together again.

Louis felt a flush rise to his skin but he rolled his eyes. “We’ve kissed before,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, while we were piss drunk,” Zayn said, shrugging. “Honestly, I didn’t think you were really interested because you never talked about it after, like.”

Louis gasped. “That’s because I thought you weren’t interested because you--” he stopped himself and shook his head. “Oh, for god’s sake! It doesn’t matter. I’m going to kiss you again.”

Zayn smiled. “Cool.”

Louis wrapped his hands around Zayn’s neck and kissed him while Zayn held his waist, and Louis had forgotten all about being locked out on the loading dock until he saw a flash out of the corner of his eye and pulled away from Zayn to see him holding his phone over them.

“So they’ll let us back in,” Zayn explained, smiling slowly.

Harry was the first to come barrelling through the door, a giggling fool followed by Niall who was screaming bloody murder they’re kissin’, and Liam just hung about in the doorway with a smug look on his face that Louis would’ve punched him for if he wasn’t so pleased.

“Are you guys boyfriends now?” Harry demanded, hopping excitedly from one foot to the other.

Louis felt a blush rise to his face and he didn’t know how to answer, because that was quite a step up from kissing sober for the first time, but Zayn surprised him by reaching for his hand and lacing their fingers together. Louis looked at him and Zayn winked, and Louis let himself breathe. They could talk about it. They could do that now.

“You’re acting like children,” Louis said instead, rolling his eyes toward Harry.

“Does that mean we get to call you Mum and Dad now?” Niall giggled, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Shut up,” Louis groaned, pushing past him and dragging Zayn behind him, who roughed up Niall’s hair and muttered a sure, Nialler as he passed.

“I told Paul that Louis was puking all over the bathroom and Zayn was helping clean up,” Liam said, crossing his arms and smirking. “Dunno if he bought it, but. You’re welcome.”

“Yes, thank you, Liam, we are ever so grateful,” Louis said flatly. “If I ever regain feeling in my fingers again, remind me to strangle you.”

“Will do,” Liam said with a wink, and Louis really couldn’t have asked for better mates.

When they made it back up front, Paul took one look at their laced fingers, rolled his eyes and sent them as far away from each other as he could. For the rest of his shift, Louis smirked every time he caught Zayn staring at him and winked every time he was caught staring at Zayn.

He didn’t realize, not until after work when he was walking into his flat and unwrapping Zayn’s scarf from his neck, that the loading dock wasn’t even a closed space. He and Zayn could’ve just walked around the building and gone back in through the front entrance.

He decided not to bring it up.

****  
  
  
  
  


\- epilogue -

****  
  


“Louis, I’m pretty sure we’ll get sacked for this,” Zayn was saying, running his hand through his quiff.

“Oh, c’mon,” Louis scoffed, squeezing Zayn’s hand as he dragged Zayn behind him. “Technically, we are going to the bathroom.”

“Yeah, but...” Zayn tried, but Louis just shushed him and continued to pull him along.

It had been six weeks since they had slid into a booth in the diner a few blocks from the grocery store and talked over cups of tea. Louis had been nervous, palms sweating against his jeans as he sat across from Zayn, but once Zayn had started tossing sugar packets at him and nudging his foot under the table, he had breathed easy again.

They had both agreed that there wasn’t really anyone they wanted to snog other than each other, and for that matter they wanted to make a habit out of it. So they started going out after work, meeting each other halfway on the tube, eating whatever looked good, snogging in the back of movie theatres, and a couple of times just walked around the city aimlessly, their hands slowly coming together again like they had that day on the loading dock.

It had been four weeks since they had started calling each other “boyfriend,” tentatively at first, feeling it out on their tongues before using it more casually, dropping it in conversations with customers or random family members.

Speaking of: Louis’s mum had freaked out when he had mentioned Zayn over the phone and insisted that they come visit the minute they had a day off, which had thoroughly terrified Louis until Zayn had told him his mum had done the same thing.

It had been three weeks since Louis went to Zayn’s flat for the first time, and it wasn’t quite as aloof and artistic as Louis had imagined, but he was right about all the classic literature on the bookshelves and the exotic teas. He had not, however, been expecting Perrie, who was every bit as lovely and kind as he had been told, but when he had entered the flat she was running around with tin foil in her hair and paint smudges on her face and hands, screaming, “Where is my jumper?!” over and over.

He’d been over a handful of times since, and she’d apologized for her “behavior” and hugged him frequently, and almost every time he returned, she had tea waiting for him. He absolutely adored her, and he could see why Zayn was never able to let her go after university.

And it had been two weeks since Zayn had pushed Louis up against his fridge when Aiden and Matt were out, kissing him like it was his job, then hoisted him up on the counter and they finally finished what they had started in the alleyway on Harry’s birthday, what they had started from the body shots even, and Louis had bit down on his arm to keep from shouting when he came down Zayn’s throat, impossible, glorious Zayn who had just kept his lips wrapped around his cock through it, looking up at Louis through those stupid brown eyes and wiping his mouth on sleeve when he was done. He had immediately reached down into his own pants to finish himself off, to which Louis had responded by slapping his hand away and pulling him in by his shirt, muttering, “Don’t you dare.” He liked finishing what he started himself.

Which brought Louis back to the task at hand, pulling Zayn through the produce department towards the EMPLOYEES ONLY section.

“Yeah! Get it!” somebody shouted from across the floor. Louis and Zayn froze and looked towards where the voice came from, and saw Niall standing behind the deli counter, a green cap over his shock of blonde hair, waving frantically as the various customers scattered throughout the area peered at them curiously.

“Fuck off, Ni--” Louis started to shout, but Zayn was gently pushing him forward and he got the picture. Watching two employees go off together for a quick snog in the bathroom while the deli boy catcalled them didn’t really do well for customer service. And that meant they were getting upstairs to the bathroom quicker.

Liam and Harry, of course, were sitting in the break room when they got up there, stabbing two forks at a piece of cake together. They were giggling and trying to get frosting on each other’s faces, so Louis hoped they wouldn’t notice him and Zayn slipping past them to get to the bathroom, until they heard Liam’s voice rise.

“And where are you two off to?” he asked them, pointing a plastic fork at the two of them.

“Um...” Zayn hummed, glancing down at him and Louis’s hands, still entwined.

“Off to have a snog in the men’s room?” Harry prompted with a mouthful of cake.

“Yes,” Louis immediately replied, which received a horrified glance from Zayn. “That is exactly what we’re doing.”

Liam barked out a laugh. “Ha! Yeah, right,” he said. “They would get sacked in a heartbeat if anyone caught them doing that on the clock.”

Harry nodded, giggling. “Louis is too proud to risk it.”

Louis just smiled tightly and waved them off as he pulled Zayn into the men’s room, shutting the door firmly behind them.

“Oh my god,”  Zayn whispered, staring at Louis in awe.

“I know,” said Louis as he bent down and checked for feet underneath the stalls.

“You just--they thought you were joking,” Zayn continued. “And it worked.”

“I know,” Louis repeated, opening the first stall door and herding Zayn inside.

“That’s so hot,” Zayn breathed, staring intently at Louis as he locked the door behind them.

Louis turned around and found Zayn crowding his space, leaning him up against the stall door. Louis smirked up dirtily at Zayn, who was apparently turned on by Louis being a smart-ass, and said, “I know.”

And then Zayn latched his mouth onto Louis’s, and Louis’s pulse jumped like it always did whenever he kissed Zayn. Louis would never say it out loud because it was cheesy as fuck and that wasn’t what he and Zayn were about, but if he was being honest, every time he kissed Zayn it felt like the first time, on that cold New Year’s Eve under a sky lit up with fireworks, alcohol swimming in his blood and a wish on his lips. Zayn kissed so honestly, so genuinely, like it was the only thing he knew how to do and every kiss was the last one. And in the back of his head, Louis would sometimes hear this kiss could be the last, because after all nothing in his life seemed permanent at the moment, but he was doing a good job ignoring it. He focused, instead, on the way Zayn’s skin felt smooth and perfect under his hands, and the way Zayn pulled on the hair on the back of his neck, and the way his facial hair tickled his chin and made him giggle sometimes. Not the last, he thought to himself.

Zayn pulled away to suck on Louis’s collarbone, and Louis squirmed underneath him, trying not to make any noises. He let Zayn bite and suck for a bit before plucking him off. “No hickeys on the clock,” he warned him, voice low and rough. Zayn smirked and bent down to kiss him again, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth and tried to insert his knee in between Louis’s legs. Louis moaned despite himself and pushed Zayn’s leg away, and he was like a fucking teenager, because just the way Zayn moved and breathed and kissed him languidly could be enough to get him hard, and this wasn’t the time.

Zayn chuckled and rested his forehead against Louis’s and bracing his arms beside his head. “Sorry,” he breathed, smiling into Louis’s eyes. “I just, like...”

“Yeah,” Louis said, gently holding on to his forearms. “I know.”

They stood like that, eyes closed, just breathing into each other for a minute. It occurred to Louis that bathroom breaks don’t take half as long as this, and they should be getting back up front soon, but Zayn broke the silence before he did.

“Hey,” he murmured. Louis grunted in response, and whined softly when Zayn pulled away. He opened his eyes and saw Zayn rummaging around in his pockets, his tongue poking out in concentration.

“What are you--?” Louis started to ask, but Zayn shushed him.

“Perrie bleached her hair the other day,” he said absentmindedly, while still searching his pockets.

“So?” Louis said, crossing his arms. Perrie was doing something to her hair every week.

“No, bleached it, like,” Zayn paused. “She’s back to being, like, a real blonde. Sort of.”

Louis shrugged his shoulders, not seeing the point. So Perrie went back to blonde. So what? She would look good bald, honestly.

“She says she got a job, like. A proper job,” Zayn smiled. “Gonna work at some theatre downtown, be the arts director or something. Says it’s her dream job. Wants to look the part, like.”

“I see,” Louis said, interest piqued. He remembered Perrie mentioning something about an interview last week.

“Anyway, I reckon she’s starting to settle down, moving onto the next chapter of her life, like,” Zayn shrugged. “Our lease goes up in September, so...” he trailed off and looked at Louis for a long, hard moment before shaking his head and continuing. “Anyway, I talked to Aiden and Matt the other day.”

“Ew,” Louis scoffed, wrinkling his nose. “Whatever gave you that idea?” he asked, remembering the other week when he had introduced Zayn to his flatmates and they had just sniffed at him and loped away into their bedroom.

Zayn laughed, his eyes and nose getting all crinkly in that way Louis would never get sick of, and continued. “I talked to them--well, I talked to Aiden, and he says he’s planning on popping the question any day now.”

Louis blinked. “Wow,” he breathed. “That’s....that’s brilliant.”

Zayn nodded, grinned. “Yeah.”

Louis grinned back. Beamed, really. As much as he complained about Aiden and Matt, he could see clear as day how perfect they were for each other and he was genuinely happy that they were tying the knot.

“So, I reckon they’ll be settling down soon, too. Another chapter and all that,” Zayn added, then cleared his throat. “So...”

“So...” Louis echoed, growing confused again. Was Zayn trying to humanize their snog with small talk? Because they had plenty of time for small talk. Right now, he wanted Zayn’s mouth.

“Right,” Zayn said, and finally pulled a small object out of his pocket. He held it firmly in the palm of his hand, and Louis’s stomach dropped for a second because, oh god, was he proposing? After six weeks, in the men’s room of the grocery store they worked at? But Zayn cleared his throat again and opened his hand, and in it sat a shiny silver key.

Louis stared at it for a moment, unblinking. “What--”

“I know you don’t like talking about the future,” Zayn interrupted, and how did he know that? Louis had never explicitly said it, but Zayn knew it anyway, and he was right. “But I figured, with me and Perrie’s lease and her job and everything, and Aiden and Matt getting engaged, and they’re probably gonna sell the flat, well...” he shrugged. “I thought this would be a good first step, like. You can just come and go in my flat as you please,” he paused. “Y’know--if you want.” And then he looked at Louis again, brown eyes sheepish and hopeful and maybe a little scared.

Suddenly Louis remembered New Year’s Eve, when he told Zayn about no one being up front but him anymore, and Zayn had turned to him and said, “You have me.” They were both drunk at the time, high on the buzz of promise that the air always held on New Year’s Eve, but suddenly Louis realized, as he took the key out of Zayn’s hand and wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him like it was life or death, that Zayn had been right after all. Even if Harry got a new job at the bakery, even if Niall became a rock star or a sound engineer or whatever he wanted to be, even if Liam went back to school and stepped into that adult world that seemed so foreign, even if Louis never had another New Year’s Eve Resolution for as long as he lived, he would have Zayn. Maybe not forever, but for now he had him. And for Louis, that was enough. That would be enough.

****  
  
  
  


\-- end --

 


End file.
